


My Sweet Thing

by zeesmuse



Series: The Rohirric Cycle [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeesmuse/pseuds/zeesmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOW COMPLETE What lengths will a father go to in order to protect his daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worst comes to Worse

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/cover_zps1a514721.jpg.html) ****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Chapter 01 

****

Worst comes to Worse 

_21 years before the Battle of the One Ring_

 

It had been a bloody, bloody battle.

 

The Rohirrim’s new Captain surveyed the field, strewn with bodies – both Dunlendings and Riders… more Dunlendings than not, thank Béma.   
“Who’s missing? Dead?” Elfhelm, Rohan’s youngest captain jumped from his horse and began to sift through the bodies, praying to find life. “Where are Mathye and Gauwyn?” His eyes searched frantically. One was his brother - in - law. The other was his youngest brother.

“Here. I’m here!” Mathye shouted. “Bastards knifed my horse, though.”

“How bad?” Elfhelm made is way over bodies, trying to pick out the Rohirrim, still searching for his brother.

“Not bad, but I need to get him tended to and this isn’t the place for it.” Mathye looked around, his face in a scowl. “This place has eyes. We need to grab our wounded and get out of here.”

His sister’s husband had the gift of second sight, a hackling on the back of his neck that had proven correct more times than not. Elfhelm learned early that when the man said ‘run’, you’d best run. His instinct was not often wrong. “We ride as soon as we find… oh… Béma!” 

Gauwyn, Elfhelm’s youngest brother was struggling to rise from under his fallen and bloodied horse. The man was covered with filth from head to foot. Mathye took Elfhelm’s reins from him as he rushed to his brother’s side. “How much of the blood is yours?”

Gauwyn’s mouth was a white line. “A lot of it actually.” With obvious great effort, he stood almost straight up. He peered over his horse. “Damn. I really liked that horse.” 

Elfhelm inspected him quickly. “Where is the worst?”

“Leg and my side.” He was holding the wound at his waist and both brothers grimaced when he pulled his hand away. “Is there a horse? I don’t think I’m going to walk out of here.”

“Can you get up on one?” Despite his injuries, the look on Gauwyn’s face said it all. Elfhelm whistled, motioning for Mathye to bring his steed. It took both men to get him up into the saddle. “There is an outpost about an hour or two from here. Will you make it?” Gauwyn’s head was starting to droop, but it looked as if he nodded. _Béma, please let him make it._

“Elfhelm!” Mathye hissed. “Druncenig Ende is a haven for swine and human rejects!”

“Aye, I know its unsavory reputation.” He pulled up behind his brother, gently cradling him between his thighs. “But we have no choice. Several horses need tending to and Gauwyn isn’t the only one injured! At least there will be healers there.”

“I’m fine,” Gauwyn slurred. Elfhelm gritted his teeth to keep from swearing. 

“Aye, you’re fine and I’m the lost king of Gondor,” the Captain muttered. He didn’t see the lop-sided smile on Gauwyn’s face. Quickly, he made his around his gathering éored, mentally going through the roster. He shook his head in regret at the few injured bodies that were struggling onto steeds, thankful there were only three and no dead.

Yet.

“Elfhelm,” Mathye was now reining tight on an ever-irascible horse. The stallion was still smelling blood and trying to work back into a war frenzy. “The air is restless and the sun will be setting soon. We need to make haste.”

“Aye. They want to bury their dead as well. Or burn them.” Taking one last look at the field, making sure they left nothing that was Rohan. “Whatever it is Wild Men do with their dead,” he snarled. “Bring up the rear, Mathye. My hands are full.” With that, Elfhelm moved to the front of the ragged group of Riders and made way quickly to outpost.

~~~…~~~

Lýðrest had her arms elbow deep in hot suds. Sundown was coming and that was when the pitiful excuse of a hamlet would come to life. Mentally, she ticked off what needed to be done in the next hour to ensure the tavern ran as smoothly as possible; how many kegs needed to be brought up from the cellar, how much ale, mead, whiskey. She didn’t want another run-in with Hucohun. She didn’t put it past the man to bring reinforcements next time she was caught alone. Without realizing what she was doing, she turned her arm over, checking the bruise from where he grabbed her some days past. It was almost faded and she wasn’t wanting a new one to replace it anytime soon.

“You should tell your da.” Ciricbelle, Belle to her friends, stood on the other side of the large tub, washing mugs as fast as Lýðrest. 

“He fucking well has enough on his mind.” Lýðrest shrugged. 

“At the very least, tell Hæfern.” Belle put the last of the mugs in the vat of clean hot water. “He’ll be in tonight or tomorrow.”

Lýðrest snarled. “Da hates it when I go to him.”

Belle planted her fists on ample hips. “Why? They are brothers! He’s your uncle!”

Lýðrest smiled fondly. “Aye, he is, but Da seems to think he’s a bad influence.” She grinned evilly. “He taught me to swear and how to defend myself. Believe me,” she continued, “if that prickless wonder tries anything with me again, I’ll lay his worthless arse out.” 

“What?” Belle began to rinse mugs, her hands turning a rougher, brighter red. “He’s taught you to defend yourself.”

Lýðrest turned from the vat and headed towards the cellar. “That, and a few other things,” she mumbled profanities under her breath. Just as she reached the stairs, she heard the bell frantically clanging from the town gate. Almost simultaneously, her father tore into the kitchens. 

“There’s an éored coming in; one that’s seen battle.” Many years ago, Hamon had been a handsome man. These days, after too many years raising a daughter on his own in a rough and tumble town, he was drawn and haggard on good days.

Lýðrest immediately did a u-turn, going to the medicinal cupboard. “Injured?”

“Aye. It looks like several.”

“Damn! YOU!” Lýðrest turned to one of the younger boys. “Make sure the the lower rooms are cleared out and fresh linens are on the beds. JOCE! We need towels and linens! Belle-”

“I’m boiling water. Someone needs to build fires in the fireplaces in the rooms.”

Lýðrest opened the cupboard door and began to pull down medicinal herbs. “I’ll get my sewing kit in case any of them need sewn.”

Immediately, her father was hissing in her ear. “I don’t want you near any of them! You don’t know them, don’t know-”

“Look!” She spun and thrust a finger in his face. “This place is Mordor’s backyard and every night I serve men no better than Orcs and Dunlendings in this Béma – forsaken place! Besides, I’m the closest thing to a healer in this stinking hole!” She thrust her bruised arm out, yanking the sleeve up. “Hucohun did this to me three nights ago. He caught me alone in a hall. He’s determined to have me one way or the other and next time, I’m afraid he’s going to bring backup to prove his point!”

“Lýðrest-”

“I fear Hucohun more than I fear a group of injured Riders! I would simply kill the man, but his companions would hunt me down!” She turned back to the cabinet. “Besides, the King’s Riders are normally better behaved. I’m going to need whatever whiskey you can spare. The good stuff, not the watered down piss.” 

By the time Elfhelm and his éored got to the tavern and inn, Lýðrest was ready. Under the baleful gazes of the resident drunks and hardliners, three injured men were carried into the inn rooms. Lýðrest quickly assessed the one referred to as ‘Gauwyn’ as being the most severely injured. He was blue around the mouth and he was coated with blood. Two men held him while their captain peeled his armor and what clothing he could get off him. The blood had dried, causing cloth to stick to wounds, making things worse. 

Elfhelm was vaguely aware of the diminutive woman barking orders like a garrison captain. She had a tongue that would peel tar from wall and the hired help jumped when she said jump. As soon as what clothing they could remove from Gauwyn’s body was taken off, they immersed him in a metal tub of warm water, loosening what was adhered to the wounds on his brother’s leg and torso. With a briskness rarely seen, she had Gauwyn bathed, even his hair washed, scum and dirt turning the water into filth. Another serving girl began to ply him with whiskey. They appeared to be completely nonplussed the man was naked.

In short order, the healer had Gauwyn pulled from the tub, unapologetic for the now drunken condition he was in and laid in the bed, towels and linens padding both sides of him. Cursing the likes Elfhelm never heard in his life hissed between her lips as she assessed the damage from his injuries.

“Damn if I don’t know which one to start with.” Another slew of curses fell in whispers. “Hold his arms up and someone hold his legs. I’ll start with the one on his side.”

Luckily, Gauwyn was passed out cold, so he didn’t struggle much. Lýðrest quickly came to the conclusion that the leg injury was the worst, the cut in the man’s side missed vital organs and arteries, whereas the leg wound was deep to the bone, damaging tendons. Elfhelm watched her closely, noticed how tight, close and concise the stitches were. After both wounds were sutured, she bound both chest and leg tightly, putting a smelling, stinking salve on both.

“You know this man?” Lýðrest motioned to a serving girl to dump the bath water and bring a bowl of cooler water. “You’ve not left his side.” She never acknowledged or looked at Elfhelm, instead concentrating on getting Gauwyn situated and off his injuries.

“He’s my youngest brother.” 

Lýðrest showed no emotion or sympathy whatsoever. “Sorry about that. I hope you don’t have anywhere to be, because he’s not going to be moving for a long time.” She tucked a lightweight sheet under the young man’s arms. “Hope you have coin, too,” she muttered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay and Théoden King always reimburses those who care for his soldiers.” Lýðrest’s head jerked up, truly looking at the young Captain for the first time.

He was rather handsome, under the filth. He was filling out to be a huskily built man, much like a cuddly warg, if there were such a thing. His hair was the color of rust and his eyes were filled with concern for his brother. She turned to speak sharply over her shoulder. “Oswyn, don’t take the damn tub out. Heat water for a bath for the captain here.” She nodded once. “And bring in an extra cot. He’ll want to stay with his brother, most likely.” Elfhelm nodded his thanks. She stood up and cracked her back. “I need to check on the other two, see how things are in the tavern and then I’ll be back.” She nodded to the young Rider. “Chances are he’ll run a fever and then he’ll be the life of the party tonight. It’s not something you need to sit through by yourself.” The water in the tub was filling up fast. “I suggest you take your bath now while you can get it and I won’t be running in and out on you.”

And with that, she left the room, leaving Elfhelm amazed at the storm she brewed within him.

 _tbc_

 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/01b_zps6f6eda3a.jpg.html) [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/01a_zps91836e75.jpg.html)


	2. Somewhere along the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Hucohun is a tad mite familiar looking...

****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Chapter 02 

****

Somewhere along the line 

Lýðrest was muttering to herself, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling she had. It wasn’t a bad uneasy, simply the young captain unnerved her for some reason. She stuck her head into both rooms, checking on the other two riders, whose injuries were not so grave as the one she had spent the last few hours working on. She was grateful they were in the bed, bathed, bandaged up and apparently resting. Each one had a capable Rider sitting with them. She made sure they had been fed, that they had drink and were comfortable and made sure they knew who she was and where she could most likely be found in case of an emergency.

The noise in the tavern was already rising to a fever pitch and it sounded as if her da had already broken up one fight. Ducking into the back of the bar, she realized that there weren’t enough barrels of ale, much less anything stocked for this night’s drinking and carousing. With a curse, she rolled up her sleeves and headed down the steps to the cellar and grabbed two kegs, hoisting one on each shoulder. She climbed up the stairs, not paying attention except to make sure she didn’t lose her grip on the kegs. As she reached the top of the stairs, both kegs were lifted from her shoulders.

“Here! Let Ælle and Eadbald take those for you!” The voice made her shudder.

“That’s quite alright, Hucohun.” Lýðrest grabbed back at the nearest keg. “I have these and my father will be looking for them.” Both men grinned very unpleasant smiles and backed away. The owner of the unpleasant voice attempted to take her by the arm.

“Oh, they have it. Let’s you and me go for a walk in the moonlight.”

Lýðrest snatched her arm from the man. He was greasy, his hair so lank from sweat, it looked as dark as dirt. “First off, you churlish, rank, canker-blossom,” Hucohun and his friends raised their eyebrows at the insult, “I don’t trust your prickless wonders to take the kegs into the tavern. Second, I have work to do, so no I won’t be walking anywhere with you!” She grabbed the first keg from Ælle, a dim-witted idiot if there ever was one and snarled so ferociously at Eadbald, he automatically handed the keg over. “Now get out of my way and stay out my way. I do not have time for you ever!”

Hucohun started after her. “You will make time for me!” He stopped short, his momentum stopped by a rough hand in his hair.

“I think she said to stay out of her way.” The sturdy hand pulled him backwards and spun Hucohun to face the owner. “I would do so if I were you.”

Hucohun stared up at the angry, older Rider. “Hæfern,” he sneered. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” 

Hæfern glared at the young woman. “Canker-blossom! That’s one I didn’t teach you!” He nodded to Lýðrest to go on before addressing the now squirming man he still held by the hair of the head. “True. It’s been awhile since I visited my brother and my favorite niece.” He watched her go around the corner. “I see I arrived just in time.” As soon as she disappeared, he shook the man for good measure, causing him to squirm and scowl. “She’s not for you. If I catch you accosting her again, I’ll fekking take your head off, do I make myself clear?” He released the man and shoved him into his friends. “She’s meant for someone far better than you. Now fek off!” With that, he stormed off, into the tavern proper, cheers and jeers going up as the Rider entered the barroom.

Hucohun glowered at the back of the Rider, waiting until he was out of earshot. “Fek off yerself,” he whispered. “You won’t be here forever to watch her.” He jerked his chin at his lackeys and yanked his sweaty tunic down to straight it. “C’mon boys. There has to be some fun somewhere else in this Béma forsaken town!” He turned on his heel and stormed off. 

Ælle slid up beside Eadbald before following their leader. “Eadbald? What’s a canker-blossom?”

“I dunno,” his partner whispered. “And I don’t think I want to know.”

~~~***~~~ 

Later in the night, Elfhelm and several of his uninjured men, sat in the corner of the bar, calmly watching the goings on, the arguments, ducking the occasional thrown mug.

“I thought Witnung was only one night when you were young and alone,” Mathye hissed. “This is as bad as what I went through!” 

“Not me!” Eafa shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Duck!” All three men stood up and gave a wide berth to two men battling over a game of darts.

“That’s it!” Elfhelm had had enough. He grabbed the nearest man, nodding to Mathye to grab the other. Eafa pulled the door open and both combatants found themselves thrown into the dirt. They came up sputtering and cursing. “Come back in,” Elfhelm yelled, “and you’ll lose teeth, if you have any left!” The three Riders returned to their table in the corner. “How fast will we be able to get out of here?” 

Mathye seemed thoughtful. “Hlothere and Oeric will be ready to go in a few days, barring any setbacks.” He picked up his empty mug, scowled in it and set it back down. “Gauwyn, on the other hand-”

“Isn’t going anywhere for a while,” Elfhelm finished for him. “Are there any guards with our horses?”

“Oh yeah,” Eafa piped up. His mug was empty as well. “Keeping three or four Riders in the barn at all times. So far, no one has made an attempt and we are keeping the rotation fresh, so no one will go to sleep or get bored.”

Elfhelm nodded, all the while watching the owner’s daughter draw out three mugs of brew from an oaken barrel. She held the three mugs in one hand, while she deftly moved between tables and people heading towards them. She set the three mugs on the table. “Rest of the drinks for you three are on the house tonight.” She flicked her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the nodding barkeep. “Da says thank you for clearing the room of the rabble. Hopefully, it will deter any other nut-hooks at least for an hour or two.”

Elfhelm had to grin. She was beautiful, but when she opened her mouth, it was like the chamber pot fell out. “Girl! Who taught you to swear?” He nodded his thanks and lifted the mug. “I might have him teach me a few things.”

Lýðrest leaned forward, unknowingly giving him a generous view down her blouse. “My uncle, Hæfern.” She stood back up. “Do you know him?”

The three Riders were now looking at each other. “Oh yes,” Elfhelm nodded once and then put the mug to his mouth. “Knew he had a brother; didn’t know he had a niece.”

“He also taught me how to swing a frying pan. I can’t walk around with a sword all the time.” She turned and sashayed back to the bar, Elfhelm enjoying the view.

“That,” Eafa mumbled into his mug, “would be nice, nice tumble.”

“If you could get past the thorns and she has those a-plenty!” Elfhelm was enjoying his mug as well. “Well, speak of Sauron…” Elfhelm sat up and motioned for a craggy Rider to join them. “Hæfern! We were just talking about you!”

“Thought my fekking ears were burning!” Hæfern pulled up a chair from the neighboring table and sat down with his mug. “What in Mordor are you three doing in Druncenig Ende?”

Without much preamble, Elfhelm told the older Rider of their run-in earlier in the morning with the Dunlendings. “We’ve had no casualties, thank Béma, but we do have a few injuries and Gauwyn is going to be down a while with his.” 

“Dunlendings are restless these days.” Hæfern pulled a deep swallow, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “One wonders what’s gotten into them.”

“Who knows?”

“Something,” Elfhelm whispered, “is riling them up.”

The men sat for a time, backs to the wall, watching the comings and goings. Once or twice, arguments broke out and were quickly quelled when drunken patrons realized the Riders were still in the corner and not as drunk as they were. Once or twice, the yell to take it outside stopped punches from being thrown. No one wanted to mess with a fully cloaked Rider. 

“You’re watching my niece like she were a buffet.”

Elfhelm smirked. “She’s pretty. She should be married. Why is she still here?” Hæfern was right. Elfhelm rarely took his eyes from the young tavern wench. She joked with those sober enough to keep their hands to themselves and kept a wide berth from those too drunk to care. He noticed she ignored a group of three, grungy Rohirrim in the corner. 

“Oh, her Da would give his eyeteeth to get her out of here. If he trusted the man who was taking her away.” Hæfern leaned against the wall, two legs of his chair waving precariously in the air. “Where would she go?”

“You know, even the taverns in Aldburg are nice.” Mathye spoke up. “She could easily pick up work there.” 

“Mordor!” Elfhelm exclaimed. “She could pick up work easily at our garrison. Gamhelm and Aelwydd would treat her like another daughter.”

“I dunno,” Eafa muttered into his mug. “Another chattering female and Gamling might move to Dol Amroth!” Elfhelm and Mathye both snorted in laughter at that, nodding in agreement.

“Or Mordor!” 

“True.” Hæfern somehow managed to keep his balance. “Still, her father is rather prickly when it comes to her. As much as he wants her safe, he doesn’t want her to go.” All four chair legs hit the floor with a definite ‘thunk.’ “He misses her mother.”

All three men looked at him in disgust.

“She looks like her mother, you fekking perverts!” 

Elfhelm was watching the doorway that led to the rooms. He noticed the Rider sitting with Gauwyn look around and seeing Lýðrest, he motioned her over. His whispering was frantic and Elfhelm was rising when he finally caught his eye. Lýðrest shook her head and turned to come to the young Captain, before noticing he was already on his way. 

“What is wrong?”

“Gauwyn is starting to run a fever,” Penda was almost breathless. “He’s starting to thrash and moan.” Elfhelm shoved his way past the young Rider, muttering an apology.

Lýðrest beckoned Belle to the bar. “I need a lot of cool water. Keep it coming. And my healer’s bag from my room.” She then grabbed a bottle of whiskey, waving off her father’s grumblings. “This one is bad, fekking bad off. I worry about him the most. Da,” she finally acknowledged her father, “I hope you can handle the rest of the night without me.” She sped off behind Elfhelm before her father could complain.

She knocked once before opening the door. Sure enough, the captain’s brother was having a hard time of it. Elfhelm was sitting next to him, up on the bed, doing his best to console him.

“Gauwyn, you have to settle down. Achae won’t forgive me if you don’t get well!” He heard Lýðrest come in and turned to look at her.

Lýðrest’s heart fell. She had never seen such anguish on a man’s face. Silently, she bucked up, realizing she had to take charge of the situation. “Here!” She thrust the bottle of whiskey at the captain. “Try to drizzle some of this down his throat.” The door opened and Belle entered, several pitchers in her hands and her healer’s bag in the girl’s mouth. Lýðrest nodded to the night table. “Pour a pitcher in the basin. We’ve got to start bathing him down.” The bar owner’s daughter turned towards her friend and grabbed the bag, setting it on the bed. “I’m going to need cloths and-” Before the sentence was out of her mouth, Lýðrest was presented with a wad of shredded linen. She snatched them from Belle and told her to keep the fluids coming.

Elfhelm was drizzling whiskey a few drops at a time down his brother’s throat. Leaning over the young man’s torso, she took the bottle from him, taking a swig herself, before handing it back. “Take a drink, soldier and put it to the side. We damn well have work to do.” She dipped the first cloth into the cool water in the basin, not wringing it out thoroughly. With a gentleness Elfhelm found difficult, if not impossible to believe, she began to dab the cloth around Gauwyn’s mouth, squeezing a few drops inside his lip. “You have a pretty mouth, boy. I know you’ll be wanting to kiss… Achae?… with it before long, so swallow up.” After a moment, she laid it over the man’s mouth, handing a second rag to Elfhelm. She pointed to the pitcher on his side. “Wet it down and start sponge-bathing him. We’ve got to get this fekking fever down or his brain will fry in his skull like eggs on a hot stove.”

“That was a pretty thought.” Elfhelm dropped the cloth into the water, pulling it. “Thanks.”

“I won’t lie to you,” Lýðrest was working on Gauwyn’s throat and face. “Your brother is in bad shape, worst I’ve ever seen.” For a moment, she looked Elfhelm dead on. “ If you’re not the worrying type, you need to start being.”

Elfhelm stopped bathing his brother’s arm. “Is he… dying?”

Lýðrest bit her lip. “If there was no hope, I wouldn’t waste my time or my da’s best whiskey.” She resumed bathing the young’s man’s face and neck. “There is hope. A slim bit of it.” Again, she dribbled water into his mouth.

They worked that way, together until the sun rose. On several occasions, the door would quietly open, the water in the pitchers renewed, mugs of cool mead brought for Rider and Bar Mistress. They worked, not in silence, but occasionally whispers, talk of home, family, very different upbringings; his large, close-knit family and her broken, wounded one. They told jokes not meant for refined company, but causing both to not laugh to uproariously, but enough to take the edge off, pass the time. 

Finally, as the sun rose, morning sunbeams dancing through the window, Lýðrest sat back, wiping a sweaty arm across an exhausted face. “There. I think we did it.”

Elfhelm was equally exhausted. For not the first time, he looked closely at his brother, who no longer seemed to be sweating or limp. He wasn’t thrashing about, but appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He was barely aware when the mattress rose as the woman removed herself from his side. A gentle hand touched him on the shoulder. “Get in the bed. I’ll send someone up to sit with him for the day. You need your rest.”

With that, she quietly slipped out, her first thoughts to send someone and her second, to find her own bed. Why oh why, couldn’t sick men be sick during the day and not all fekking night long?

~~~***~~~ 

Late in the night, just before the sun rose, the rabble finally cleared out and the serving girls cleaned the last table and staggered to their rooms or their homes. In the quiet of the early morn, Hamon and Hæfern sat a table, appreciating the silence.

“You need to get our girl out of here, Hamon.” The caffe the Rider was drinking was strong, almost sludge.

“What am I going to do?” Hamon had a mug of weak tea in his hands. “I don’t want to see her go, but I’m terrified if I send her off with a group of anyone, someone will hurt her. I can’t leave here long enough to take her somewhere.”

“I could talk to the captain of this group of Riders-”

“NO!” Hamon spat angrily. “He watches her like she’s a feast.”

Hæfern snorted, picking up his mug. “She is a feast, Hamon,” his voice echoed eerily into the cup. 

“If she were married… that would be one thing. But she isn’t.” Hamon made a sour face at his tea, obviously wishing it were stronger. “I don’t want anyone taking advantage of her.” 

His brother snorted in derision. “I don’t see anyone taking advantage of her easily. Ah, Hamon,” Hæfern set his mug down carefully and leaned across to his brother. “She carries bruises where Hucohun grabbed her last week and tonight, when I arrived, I had to pull him off her again.” He picked it back up and studied its depths. “She’s safer with the captain than she is here.” He reached over and tapped Hamon on the wrist. “I can talk to him-”

“No.”

“-or chat with Gamhelm.”

“The Marshal?” Hamon drained his tea. “What would a Marshal want to do with making sure my daughter is safe?”

“He has four daughters of his own and runs a large garrison with one of the nicest taverns anywhere near Aldburg. Tell you what, I’ll head that way and have a chat with him. See if he can find her work.” Hæfern stood up and stretched, cracking his back. “You’ll have plenty of Riders here for a few days.” He picked up his mug. “Keep an eye on her. Better yet, I’ll tell Elfhelm to watch her.” With that he wandered off to find his bed.

Hamon stared into the dregs of his drink, his brother only in his edges of his peripheral. He finally stood up as well.

“Not unless she’s wed proper.” 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/02_zps94accfd6.jpg.html) _tbc_


	3. 3 - The Stranger

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 03 

__

The Stranger 

After two days, the majority of the company was more than ready to return to their garrison.

Everyone except Gauwyn. He spent more time numbed up and passed out than he did awake and when he was awake, he was restless, in pain, and angry. That bothered Elfhelm to no end.

Elfhelm was torn. As captain, it was his duty to return with his group and leave someone with his brother. However, the one being left behind was his brother. Duty and family at times did not mix. If Gauwyn wasn’t so bad off…

“You stay,” Mathye was fairly insistent. “I’ll explain-”

“I should go and leave you behind. Or Eafa…”

“No.” A heavy hand came down on the young captain’s shoulder. Hæfern stood tall behind him. “You stay here, I’ll talk to Gamhelm. The Marshal,” he said with a wink, “and I have been friends for many years. We had Rider-training together. He owes me a favor or two.” He lifted his hand. “Chances are, he’ll be up here with a fresh detail to have a looksee himself.”

“I don’t know,” Elfhelm shook his head. “The men are my responsibility.”

“So is the one laying half-dead in the bed there, Rider!” Hæfern spoke gruffly. “Stay put with him or your mother will have your head if you come home without him. And Achae right behind her!” Elfhelm shook his head in agreement. Hereswið ran a tight tavern and no one crossed her, not even her affable husband or any of her children. She’d raised twelve and all of them tiptoed around the woman. He feared her more than he feared his senior captain or his Marshal! Put in that context, Elfhelm quickly agreed to stay behind. 

“I’m more afraid of her than I am of Gamhelm, anyway!” Elfhelm whispered with a smile.

“As you should be!” 

As his men began to disperse and head out to saddle and saddlebag their horses, Hæfern drew him close. “If it worries you, I outrank you and ordered you to stay behind.” Elfhelm nodded in agreement. “However, there is one thing you can do for me while I’m gone.”

“Sure. Name it.”

Hæfern was mildly amused at the speed in which the young Rider agreed to the unspecified request. “You know Lýðrest is my niece-”

“I’d heard rumors,” Elfhelm said with a grin.

“I had planned to be here a few more days; however, with your troubles, I’m cutting my visit short.” The older captain leaned forward. “Keep an eye on her. There are a few unsavory Rohirrim that have laid hands on her, wait!” Elfhelm reared up in fury, Hæfern laying a restraining hand on his chest, “Hear me out. She’s not been… physically accosted, but it hasn’t been for lack of trying.”

“Who?”

Hæfern looked around, making sure they had no company. “Hucohun,” Elfhelm nodded; he knew the man, at least by now he did, “and his two buddies, Ælle and Eadbald.” Elfhelm’s normal smile now turned into snarl. “Hucohun has been difficult and is becoming more difficult to deal with.”

“Why doesn’t her father send her on elsewhere?” Elfhelm hissed. “Somewhere where she’d be safer?”

Hæfern shrugged. “Same reasons we’ve discussed. She’s all her da has left, but if she had gainful employment in a safe haven, I think I could talk him into letting her go. That’s part of my reason for going in your stead. I can talk to Gamhelm and his wife Aelwydd. I hope I can appeal to their family instincts to take her in. If I can procure employment for her or if I can get Gamhelm to head this way with me on the return trip, my stubborn brother won’t have much choice.” Hæfern leaned back, his plan revealed. “Besides, your ma has a soft heart and could use the help in the tavern. You know it, as well as I do.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. “You can do that for me?”

“No problem.”

“Don’t try anything.”

Elfhelm shook his head. “Nah.”

“Good.” With that, Hæfern turned and strode off, his bootfalls echoing down the hallway.

Not paying attention, Elfhelm felt a hard punch on his arm. He turned to see Lýðrest standing in the now open doorway behind him. It was apparent she’d heard every word. “I don’t need a babysitter.” She elbowed her way around him. “And I’m not leaving my da!” she spat over her shoulder.

“Oh,” Elfhelm smiled and rubbed his abused arm. “I think you do and I think you will.” With a grin, he returned to his brother’s room to sit with him.

~~~…~~~ 

For several days, things were quiet. Well, relatively quiet considering the hamlet’s normal propensity for noise. Lýðrest was busy, keeping up with the kitchen, the help, and trying to stay out of Hucohun’s way, as well as Elfhelm’s. That man somehow managed to find her no matter where she went, what she did, how she tried to hide… wasn’t he supposed to be busy taking care of his brother? Somehow, he managed to do that as well. Lýðrest was glad for that. The worst thing about dealing with an injured, disabled man was helping him in the toilet. Many women – and most men – talked about that shriveled, dangling thing as if it was the greatest gift Béma ever bestowed upon a walking human being. Sauron’s balls, Belle talked about how much her Rider loved her to use her mouth on it. The thought made her gag. If he pissed out of it, how on fekking earth could the damn thing taste good?

But at least Elfhelm seemed to be dealing with that. Gauwyn was slowly healing, too slowly in Lýðrest’s opinion, but she felt fairly certain now that he would survive. 

On one occasion, she walked by the room and heard sniggering laughter. With a frown that would frighten Morgoth himself, she threw the door open to see Gauwyn propped up in the bed with Elfhelm sitting in a chair next to him, booted feet stretched up beside him. Both had stupid-arsed grins on their faces, obviously talking about one or the other’s conquests and Gauwyn was now wheezing in pain from the exertion of his laughter.

“Look, you spleeny clotpoles,” she had a finger pointed straight at the two overgrown buffoons. “Settle down and pipe down. If Gauwyn splits his stitches because of your blathering tongue, I’m not so sure I’m going to spend my da’s best whiskey getting your brother drunk again so I can restitch him!” With an angry nod, she slammed the door shut.

“Clotpole?” Gauwyn gasped. “What the fek is a clotpole?”

Elfhelm was laughing so hard, his chair tipped backwards and he fell in the floor with a loud thud, causing him to groan and then laugh harder. Almost immediately, the door slammed open again, a vengeful wraith of a Lýðrest standing in the entry like an avenging ghost. “You two are worse than any child that graced this town. I’ll not stitch up your head either!” And with the she slammed the door shut.

Both brothers burst into heartfelt laughter, laughter that Lýðrest could hear as she stormed down the hallway. 

“Elfhelm?” Gauwyn rasped. “What is it we were laughing at to begin with?”

“I dunno!” The young Rider was rolling over, and trying to find his footing. If the spitfire came back, he didn’t want to be at her mercy in the floorboards.

Lýðrest fumed down the hall. Those two would be the death of her! She couldn’t wait until the brother was good and well and they would leave and return to whatever garrison or fancy town they came from. She knew Gauwyn had a lady down in the Eastenmet, but Elfhelm… she didn’t know.

Not that it mattered. Riders rode in, Riders rode out. None of them stayed and she knew too many bar maids and women here left with broken hearts and babes with no das to count. So caught up in her furious musings, Lýðrest wasn’t paying any attention when she came around a corner in front of the stairwell and ran headfirst into Hucohun.

“Well, hello beautiful!” Hucohun reached out to grab her as if to steady her, but Lýðrest jumped back out of his reach. “Now is that any way to greet the man you love?”

Lýðrest’s jaw dropped. “The man I love? You pignut!” She drew up full. “I’d rather marry Captain Elfhelm, you tottering pumpion!” 

Hucohun stood up straight, his posture showing anger, but a look of confusion on his face. “Tottering… pumpion?” It was apparent her insult was not fully understood. Neither were aware of the several barmaids and a few young kitchen boys who were now staring at them. Her father set down the mug he was drying and was starting to come around from the back of the bar.

“Did someone mention my name?” Lýðrest jumped, only to land into the outstretched arms of Elfhelm. He was grinning like an idiot. Before Lýðrest could extradite herself from the Rider’s embrace, he kissed her brashly on the mouth, his tongue brazenly stealing her breath. “I wasn’t aware we had discussed marriage so soon, my dear!” He turned her loose with a grin.

“Why… why…” Her sputtering only made Elfhelm grin brighter. 

“Where were you heading, my love?”

“The kitchen, but-”

“Go on with you then,” Elfhelm nodded, dismissing her. “I’ll be along shortly. Gauwyn needs some water and something a little heavier to eat than broth.” He pushed her gently in the direction of kitchen, his grin becoming wider as she turned with a huff and stormed off, muttering dark curses about men in general.

“You should not interfere with things that do not concern you, Captain,” Hucohun gritted between his teeth, his voice an oily hiss.

Elfhelm turned his full smirk on the town bully. “You should not attempt to take what is not yours.” Before the man could stop him, the normally affable Rider stepped up, grabbing the man by the neck of his tunic. “Her uncle charged me with keeping an eye on her until he returned. I plan on doing such.” He turned the man loose, shoving him backwards into the stair railing in the process. He inspected his palm where he had laid hands on the man. With a disgusted scowl, he grabbed a rag lying on a nearby table, wiping the palms. “A bath and cleaner clothes might rein in some desperate woman, but I don’t think Lýðrest is all that… anxious about obtaining a man.” With that, he threw the rag down and started to walk around him. As he stepped to his shoulder, he stopped. “If you ever lay another hand on her again, I will make you scream like a Dunlending, do you understand?” Green eyes turned dark in anger. “Good.” Elfhelm obviously didn’t want a spoken answer. He clapped him on the shoulder hard, causing Hucohun lurch sideways, the railing of the stairs stopping his fall. “I’m glad we had this conversation.” And with that, he disappeared into the dark hallway behind the stairs, obviously following the tavern owner’s daughter into the kitchen.

Hucohun grabbed the bottom of his tunic, straightening it and turning only to run headlong into Hamon. Lýðrest’s father was furious, his face a beet red. 

“If you ever accost my daughter again, you maggot,” obviously Hæfern wasn’t the only one with a vile vocabulary. Lýðrest learned her curses and putdowns honestly, “Captain Elfhelm will have to wait his turn at making you scream like a Dunlending, if you still breathe. Do I make myself clear?”

Hucohun snarled and using his shoulder to shove Hamon hard, walked around him and stormed from the tavern. 

Elfhelm was inwardly sniggering over that rather improper but enjoyable kiss with Lýðrest and outwardly smoldering at Hucohun’s audacity to waylay the girl in front of everyone. Whistling, he walked into the kitchen, pushing at the swinging doors.

“ACK!” Just in time, both hands went up, protecting his face from the brunt of a cruel blow.

Lýðrest was swinging an iron skillet and it pounded the captain in the forearms. Gasps from the women and several boys in the kitchen could be heard loudly and Lýðrest staggered backwards, dropping the heavy cooking utensil. “Béma!” She stepped forward, her intent to inspect the possible damage. “Are you a-right?”

A furious visage emerged from behind the captain’s lowering arms. Quickly, he inspected where she struck him, moving them to ensure there were no broken bones or tendons. Normally sapphire blue eyes darkened to storm grey as the man bore down on her, backing her into a wall. “Why?”

“I thought you were Hucohun!” 

“Bullshite!” This was a side of the man she hadn’t seen before and truth be told, it terrified her. “You knew I was following!” As quickly as the anger built, it dissipated. He backed up, giving her room and air. “Damn woman, you’re dangerous with that thing!” He flicked her nose with his finger. “Remind me to be more careful around corners and doors.” 

He then turned to the cook, turning the full brunt of his charm on the woman. “Gauwyn needs something a bit hardier than broth. Any chance we can put just a little bit,” he held his thumb and forefinger a breadth apart, “of meat in some? Or some bread?” The woman nodded in a daze, still unsure what all she had seen and reaching blindly beside her for a trencher, began to dip. As soon as the trencher was filled and given to Elfhelm, he thanked the cook graciously and turned to see Lýðrest still standing where he pinned her, mouth agape.

“Would you really rather marry me?” She nodded dumbly. If anything the Rider’s smile grew larger. “I’ll remember that.” Thinking twice before leaving, he leaned forward. “Watch out for Hucohun. Please.” With that, he left through the swinging doors, leaving the kitchen and its inhabitants dumb-founded.

~~~…~~~ 

It was late and the whispering caught her unawares, incomprehensible hissing on the edge of her hearing. Exhaustion had invaded every bit of her body; everything hurt, everything worn out. Between her normal duties and chores and then the added responsibility of injured Riders, five days of caring for Gauwyn and putting up with his insufferable brother Elfhelm, every nerve in Lýðrest’s body was stretched taut and ready to snap.

She was of a mind to ignore the noise, but her womanly curiosity got the better of her and she slid under the stairwell, the better to her and the less to be seen.

“You’re sure it’s taken care of?” Hucohun was like a snake. 

“Aye,” Ælle hissed loudly. “Her latch has been loosened. It will give with no trouble whatsoever.”

“And if it does,” Eadbald continued, “I’ve undone her window.” He cackled drunkenly. “The sweet Lýðrest is yours tonight, Hucohun!” 

Lýðrest put both hands to her mouth to keep her outraged gasp from being heard.

“If she’s worth anything, you two can have a go with her when I’m done. At least we don’t have to worry about that damned captain!” Hucohun snickered. “He had his fair share of ale tonight. He’ll sleep like a baby!” Their conspiring continued, but the threesome moved away, out of Lýðrest’s hearing. Quickly, on her toes, she made her way to her room. Checking closely with her lamp, she looked at her drop bar. Sure enough, the braces had been loosened, only holding on enough to anchor them barely to the door. One shove or firm shoulder would be all that was needed to break the wood away.

Hearing footsteps coming up the hall, Lýðrest backed up, not taking the time to check the window. The door would give easily enough and there would be no escape from the bastard. Shutting the door, she quickly continued down the hall, taking the back stairs up to the second floor. 

She was hyperventilating by the time she reached the landing. Her mind raced. Alone, she was no match against three men, no matter how well armed she was. Her father had been complaining all day of a migraine and she had given him something several hours ago to help him sleep. No amount of screaming would wake him up and in all honesty, she was rather loath to disturb him! No one else was in the tavern except the two Riders, her father, herself and the three men stalking her this minute.

The stairs on the far end creaked.

Without taking a second thought, she grabbed the closest door, pushing on the handle.

Locked.

Fear gripped her. She could hear someone pushing on her door downstairs. She moved across the hall, praying the door was opened.

It was. With a stifled sob, she flew in, gently shutting it behind her and throwing the door drop. The room was dark and slowly she backed up, fists returned to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing.

Suddenly, there was the sound of sword being pulled from the scabbard. Lýðrest jumped, almost dropping her lamp. 

Elfhelm rose from the bed, wide shoulders highlighted in the moonlight. He squinted, obviously seeing Lýðrest in the glow of her lamp. He scowled.

“What in the name of Mordor are you doing in my room, wench?” 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/03_zpsb3fc207a.jpg.html) _tbc_


	4. Get it right the first time

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The Sweetest Thing 

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Chapter 04 

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Get it Right the First Time 

“What in the name of Mordor are you doing in my room, wench?”

Lýðrest spun around, her heart, already in her throat, now threatened to expunge itself completely from her body. Elfhelm sat up, the blankets falling to his hips. His powerful build was more than evident in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"I...I..."

He swung his legs over the bed, the quilt now falling away.

"Oh, dear Béma!" Lýðrest caught a good glimpse of all of him in the moonlight before spinning around and looking up at the rafters. His was _not_ a shriveled dangly thing. "Please Captain, I’m sorry, they're in my room."

There was a rustling. "You can stop staring at the ceiling." Lýðrest looked down to see him tying up his leggings. "What happened?"

Her heart was pounding and it was all she could do to get the words from her mouth. "Hucohun had the latch on my door loosened and my window unlocked. I heard them laughing about it. I didn't have time-"

Her explanation was interrupted by the sound of stomping footfalls in the hallway.

"Quick!" The captain shoved her towards the bed. "Get under the quilt." He bent over and grabbed his sword, pulling it from its scabbard. "Hurry! I hope you'll find me far more trustworthy than those orcs!" Lýðrest did as she was bid, renewed terror replacing her fury at his attitude. Truth was she did trust him more than she trusted the three chasing her. She leapt into the bed, grabbing the nearest thing and tossing it over her body and head.

The boots stopped in front of the captain's doorway. Elfhelm’s grip tightened on the pommel of his sword.

Waiting... silence.

Eventually, they moved on, Elfhelm's ear to the door. He waited several minutes before turning to the bed. "Wait here. I’m going to check on my brother." The door opened and she barely heard him slither out. A few minutes later, he returned, shutting the door behind him. There was a rattling by the bedside, the sound of the sword being placed back into its casing, and now, the striking of flint before the small globe on the nightstand lit up. "Now," Elfhelm tossed the quilt back from Lýðrest’s head. He pulled up a chair and sank into it. His eyes were mildly bloodshot, as true to Hucohun’s word, he had imbibed a bit much that evening, but it appeared he was awake and completely aware of his surroundings now. He leaned over to get a better look at the tavern owner’s daughter, now huddled under his quilt. "Tell me again. Slowly. Where is your da?"

Lýðrest took a deep breath, mentally trying to slow her heartbeat. "Da had a wretched headache, so I gave him something to make him sleep." Elfhelm rolled his eyes. That wasn't a good start. "I was cleaning up the bar and I overheard Hucohun and his buddies laughing. Apparently one of them unscrewed my door latch and they opened up my window so Hucohun could sneak in and... and... and..." Her voice hitched. From somewhere, she became aware of a large, warm, calloused hand covering hers gently. 

"Go on. You're safe."

"Well, they were planning a party!" She swallowed a sob and Elfhelm heard it. She was terrified. He would have never believed it had he not been seeing pure proof of it. 

"Sounds it.”

“They were planning on sharing me!” she wailed.

“Ghastly. And no frying pan in sight, I’m sure. So then what?"

"I ran to my room. The latch was barely hanging on and before I could do anything else, I heard them coming up the hall. I ran up the stairs. I came in the first door that wasn’t locked." She pulled the quilt up under her chin. "I don't know where to go,” she squeaked pitifully. “Don't know where I'd be safe."

Elfhelm sighed and leaned back, hands dangling below his knees. "Well, as your da is useless tonight, you're safe where you are at now." For a moment he contemplated sleeping in the chair, but after spending many nights up, sitting with his brother, he dismissed that notion quickly. He stood up and grabbing his cloak from the peg by the door, he went around the bed. "Move over."

Her head shot up. "What are you doing?"

"Going to try to get some sleep. You should, as well." He slid on the bed over the quilt. "You’re safe. I won't touch you." The room was chilly so he pulled her into him, effectively spooning her. "I couldn't get it up if I wanted to, so relax." A heavy arm went around her.

Within minutes, the captain was gently snoring in her ear. Strangely enough, Lýðrest found the sound soothing, and soon she relaxed in the relative safety of his warm embrace, falling asleep as well.

~~~…~~~ 

One moment, Lýðrest was in a deep, deep sleep, completely engulfed in the warmest cocoon she could remember. There was a comfortable, droning rumble that kept her lulled and in the depth of a sweet dream, she knew she was safer than she had ever been.

The next moment, there was screaming; horrid, terrible screaming. The droning rumble turned into a roaring growl, and the warmth removed itself from around her. She fought against waking up, cried, reaching for the heat, the haven that enveloped her dreams. 

“I SEE YOU, DAMMIT! I SEE MY DAUGHTER WRAPPED IN YOUR CLOAK! I’LL FEKKING KILL YOU!” 

Lýðrest’s eyes shot open. She was still wrapped up in the quilt; she still had her slippers on, in fact. She sat up, throwing her hair behind her, to see her da and Captain Elfhelm, in each other’s face screaming about a cloak and…

_Oh noooo…_

Both Belle and Cynni stood in the doorway, white as ghosts, hands in their mouths. Belle was shaking her head at the sight she was seeing.

“Da!” She jumped out of the bed and shoved herself between the men. “DA!” she shoved him backwards. “EGGHEAD!” She pushed Elfhelm the other way. “It’s not what you think!” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think!” Hamon looked down at his only child in fury. “I know what I saw! Belle and Cynni saw it too!” 

“I was under the quilt!” Lýðrest was now toe to toe with her father. “He was on top of the quilt-”

“And he had you both wrapped in his cloak!” 

Being caught in sleep in a Rider’s cloak was a big deal. In places like Druncenig Ende, they didn’t stand much on ceremony, one was simply married if caught or seen and that was that. 

“DA!” Lýðrest was pulling, tugging at his sleeve. “Hucohun tried to… tried to…” she couldn’t say it. “The captain kept me safe. It wasn’t what you think.” Her voice sank. “Please. Nothing happened. I was under the quilt. He kept me safe.” 

For a moment, Hamon’s face softened, but looking into the serious, stoic face of Elfhelm, he stiffened back up. “He’s half naked, girl! Too many people saw. You were snuggled up together. It can’t be changed.” Lýðrest gasped. How could her own da do this? To her? She hardly knew the man! Hamon returned his attention to the Rider Captain. “Yer brother is running a fever. A bad one. I came to get you. Belle went looking for Lýðrest.” He didn’t get any further as Elfhelm and Lýðrest both pushed him aside, their current situation forgotten, running over top of Belle and Cynni to get to Gauwyn.

True to Hamon’s word, the young man was in a deep sweat, moaning and crying out. Lýðrest and Elfhelm both took up their respective posts on either side of the young man.

“I need pitchers of cool water non-stop, my medicine bag, fresh bandages… oh dear Béma…” Lýðrest pulled the bandage back from the young man’s leg. It was red, swollen, hot to the touch. “Da, I’m going to need you to hold him down.”

“Girl-”

“JUST DO IT, DAMMIT!” Hamon stood up. He knew his daughter was angry, but Béma’s Balls, he was furious, however at this moment, the young man in the bed was having a damned difficult time of it and if anything else, the man’s brother had demonstrated thus far to be a capable captain and a steadfast brother.

In the back of his mind, as he grabbed hold of Gauwyn’s ankles, he hoped Elfhelm would prove to be an equally capable and steadfast to husband his only child.

~~~…~~~ 

It took hours for Lýðrest to get Gauwyn’s fever down. In the thrashing, he had pulled stitches in his side and she had to stitch him up yet again. Hamon ordered more whiskey to be poured down his throat until he passed out. In the midst of her ordering this and that in some of the most colorful language ever heard, Elfhelm told her father what had actually transpired the night before.

“You mean the bastard loosened the bolts and screws to her door latch?” He was incredulous. “And opened her window?” The moment Gauwyn was passed out, Hamon stomped to his daughter’s room to check for himself. Sure enough, not only was the latch loosened so that a good push would disengage it, the drop slots for the drop bar were also slack and the window shutters opened and loosened as well. Hamon stood in the doorway, fury rising.

“Hey, old man. Where is your daughter today?” Hamon turned to see Hucohun standing behind him in the hall. Fury that had been simmering now boiled over. The one night she needed him to keep her safe, he was in bed, drugged with a headache and she had been forced to seek protection elsewhere. With a snarl, the older man reared back, throwing a white-knuckled fist in to the fool’s face. Spittle and a tooth went flying, as Hucohun staggered backwards into the wall. “Wha-”

With Hucohun still staggering from the blow, Hamon grabbed him by the tunic, pulling him up and onto his toes. Older, he might be, but powerful he still was. “Someone loosened the bolts on my daughter’s door last night, so she sought a safer place to sleep!” 

Hucohun was tonguing his mouth, trying to assess the damage. Where in Middle Earth were his buddies, anyway? Fangorn? “Safer? Where safer?”

Hamon’s fists tightened on the man’s tunic and he pulled him so close, Hucohun swore he could see the froth in the man’s livid face. “Wrapped in Captain Elfhelm’s cloak!” With that, he slung the lout from him and stormed off.

Hucohun stood there for a long minute, soaking in what the tavern owner said. Once he realized what the barkeep said…

“FUCK! FEKKINGFUCKFUCK!”

~~~…~~~ 

“I can’t believe he’s fekking going to stick us to this old custom!” Lýðrest was wrapping up the last of the fresh bandages on Gauwyn.

“It’s custom.” Elfhelm had spent the past hour trying to figure out what they were going to do. He didn’t want to be married to her either. “Doesn’t matter that we weren’t under the covers together. What matters is we were both under my cloak.” The Rider wasn’t about to tell her she felt damn good in his arms, that twitchy little arse spooned up against him. Had he not had as much to drink as he had, they might have been caught naked under his cloak. 

“Look. I’ve been thinking,” he took a deep breath. “Your da wants you out of here. I don’t blame him.” Her look was now mutinous. “I know,” he cut off her burgeoning and obviously profanity-laced retort, “you don’t want to leave, but he wants you somewhere safer and I don’t blame him. Hucohun and his minions are getting bolder and more devious. And the fact he’s now willing to share you to get what he wants…” he let his voice trail off. “Your da wants you out of here. So does your uncle. Let’s just go through with this sham, your da will be happy. You come with me to the garrison. The town is nice, my mother runs the local tavern. It’s clean, the Riders tip well, she’ll put you to work. The Marshal’s seat is there and he has daughters, one or two your age. You’ll like Beornia and Mayda.” He grinned sheepishly. “Mordor, I have sisters your age. They’ll eat you alive.” His smile dropped. “You’ll probably meet someone you really like.” For some reason, the thought of her meeting someone else, being with anyone else, bothered the piss out of him. “You’ll like it there.”

Lýðrest glared at the man, before shaking her head and leaving the room.

~~~…~~~ 

Her door hadn’t been fixed, so she took a nap in her da’s bed, making sure everything was latched, secured and a chair in front of the door. She woke up to the sound of the door rattling and being banged on. Apparently, her da didn’t appreciate being locked out of his own room.

“Damn girl. Why are you in my bed? You have a husband-”

“Don’t you start that!” Lýðrest spat in a huff. “We are no more married than you and Tortgyð!” Her father’s lip curled in disgust at the thought of the toothless cook in the kitchen. “You heard what happened! Why can’t you let this drop?”

For a moment, Hamon was tempted to allow her her way, as he had so many times before. But then he remembered the bruises and the constant watching out for her and had last night gone wrong…

He sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. He was going to lose her one way or the other. This way might be for the best. 

“Sit down, girl.” Lýðrest’s eyes widened in shock. When he referred to her by her gender, it never fared well. “I’m going to talk and you are going to listen for a change. And you won’t nay say me or gain say me.” He motioned to a chair in the corner and pulled the chair she had propped under the door latch to sit in front of her.

“I loved your mother. Her da begged me to leave her alone because I was nothing, nobody, had nothing, but her love. I was kicked out of the garrison I was Rider in because of fighting and I had no future to speak of, but I loved her and dragged her here to the end of the world. We scraped for every inch we have and I watched her age before my eyes. Many times in hindsight, I wish I had heeded her da’s pleas. She deserved better than me.” He hung his head in shame. “When she died, I wanted to go with her. But I had you and you look so very much like her.”

A lump formed in Lýðrest’s throat. Her da never spoke of her mother. She had so few memories of the woman… a whisper, a soft touch, on occasion, a scent of flowers…

“I’ve been selfish, when it comes to you.” He reached over and took her hands, examining the redness, the rough calluses where they should be soft. “Keeping you here close. And it could have cost you your life, your sanity last night.” With this he squeezed them. “It’s about time I thought about someone besides myself-”

“Da-”

“I said let me finish!” The storm in his eyes passed quickly. “Someday, I won’t be able to stop Hucohun and it’s time I stopped thinking I can. This… Captain Elfhelm, is a good man-”

“Da, no!”

“Yes.” His look silenced her and for the first time, Lýðrest realized this was an argument she was not going to win. “He is a good man. He’s stable; he has a bright future ahead of him. My brother speaks highly of him and that’s saying something. He is more than competent and committed when it comes to family and I believe he will be a good husband to you.” With this he dropped her hands. “He certainly is better than anyone you’ll find here.”

“Da, please don’t make me-”

Hamon’s finger shot up. “Do not beg. It does not become you and I didn’t raise you that way. I raised you to work hard, to fight, to be brave. I’ll not allow you to be put in danger anymore. Now,” with this, he patted her on the knee and stood up, “I want you to go to your room and pack up your things. I’ll send Belle to help you. You are to move into the Captain’s – your husband’s - room and I’d best not hear about this marriage being a pretense because I intend to announce it.” Lýðrest’s heart fell. There would be no hiding it then. “Besides, three people saw you wrapped in his cloak and more heard you tell Hucohun you’d rather marry the captain than him. I’m going to have a chat with Elfhelm to make sure he doesn’t dump you the minute he gets you to Cantwaraburg. You are married!” With that, Hamon opened the door and yelled down the hall for Belle. 

 

_tbc_


	5. Everybody loves you now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gamhelm finally shows up...

_**My Sweet Thing**_  


_**Chapter 05**_  


_**Everybody loves you now**_  


Elfhelm quietly entered his room, taking in Lýðrest and Belle, stacking Lýðrest’s things in the wardrobe. He caught Belle’s eye first, his head nodding in a jerk, a silent order to leave the room. His ‘bride’ was unaware that her friend had left, leaving her alone with the captain that somehow had become her husband.

“Lýðrest.” 

She jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping her clothes and grabbing at the closest thing – a beat-up oil lamp. Elfhelm smirked at her attempt to defend herself. “Put that down. We need to talk.”

Instead of obeying – _oh this doesn’t bode well_ – she clutched it tighter to her chest. “Da-”

“-just had a nice long, father to son-in-law chat with me,” he finished for her. How the man was able to smile was beyond the woman in front of him. “Basically, I was told I had a gift in you, a gift with a sewer mouth than runs waste water, that I better keep you safe, warm and dry, love you and all the babies I sire from your body.” Her jaw dropped and her fingers clutched the oil lamp tighter. “He’s telling everyone in sight that he caught us wrapped in my cloak and Belle and Cynni can back him up and they are.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Some friends you have, _my wife._ ” The last part was spat drolly, with all the good-humored sarcasm he could muster. 

“What are we going to do? I don’t want to be married!”

For some reason, her remark wounded him. “Well, I don’t wish to be married either, but we are. That is until my commanding officer and your uncle get here, which I hope will be sooner than later.” 

Lýðrest still had not turned loose of the oil lamp, although she was no longer clutching it tightly to her. “What can they do?”

“For one thing, if there is a way out of this, a way to get you to Cantwaraburg, a way for us _not_ to be married, they’ll know. Gamhelm will know.” He stepped sidewise, out of her way and pointed at her. “You should be so grateful that I have no lady waiting for me back home if we can’t get out of it.” 

Finally, she put the oil lamp back on the side table. “What happens if we can’t get out of it?” 

Elfhelm tilted his head. “Well, then we’re married. And we might as well get used to it if we are.”

~~~…~~~

Work that night was abysmal. The crowd, men, everyone wanted to wish the two of them health and happiness. Of course, that meant they all wanted to pinch her behind and buy Elfhelm more drinks than a human could consume. Elfhelm finally stood up and told them the next man to lay a hand on Lýðrest would meet his fist. Regardless of if she was his wife or not, he didn’t want her… despoiled.

Hucohun was especially crude. He kept yelling ‘helpful hints’ across the tavern and congratulating her on getting her wish. After all, she openly stated she wanted to marry the captain, wasn’t that right? Lýðrest refused to wait on him, leaving him to Cynni, whose husband would lay him out. Elfhelm finally went over and whispered something in the man’s ear. Lýðrest didn’t know what he said, but he turned beet red and left when he finished his ale.

“You don’t have to wait up for me.” It was late and the last drunk finally went staggering out the door.

“Yes, I do.” Regardless of if they were married or not, Elfhelm felt responsible for the wench. “I’ll go check on Gauwyn, though. Be right back.” The man slid gracefully between the scarred tables into the back of the tavern. He quickly faded from Lýðrest’s mind as she returned to her work. 

Soon, the place was cleaned as well as it could be and after blowing out most of the lanterns inside and dropping the outer bar, Lýðrest left the common room and blindly made her way to her own. 

She was standing in the open door of her room, wondering why it looked so bare, before it dawned on her it was no longer _her_ room. She leaned against the door, replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours, how seeking refuge from one despicable individual set off a series of equally appalling events. Elfhelm said his Marshal and her uncle might be able to reverse this so-called marriage, but there was an equally good chance they couldn’t or wouldn’t. What then? She didn’t know the man, wasn’t sure she did want to know him, would she honestly be expected to sleep with him? Have his children? How much of her life was going to change?

Truth was, she knew dreadful little of the marriage bed. All of her knowledge came from snippets of conversation from her female co-workers and they giggled too much to take seriously. What they didn’t giggle through sounded…

The whole thing frightened her and the last thing Lýðrest wanted anyone to know was that she was frightened of anything.

“Copper for your thoughts.”

She jumped, startled, only to turn and look into bright blue eyes. For the first time, Lýðrest took a close look at the man she might have to call ‘husband’ for the rest of her life.

His thick, shoulder – length hair was the color of rust and he seemed to have a permanent smile on his face, now that his brother was healing. His laughter rang through the halls and the rooms and truth be told, he charmed every woman in his vicinity. He was sturdily built, power and grace beneath the veneer of jocularity. 

In hindsight, it dawned on her over the past few hours that she slept better in his arms the previous night than she could remember – a deep, restful, peaceful sleep, not interrupted with one ear to the wall or door, wondering why that was? For the first time in months, she felt safe and protected. 

“Well?”

“I… came here,” she whispered. “Habit.” She shook herself. Softness was not in her vocabulary and her continuing retort was sharp. “I don’t understand why I can’t continue to sleep in my room! After all, when your Marshal and my uncle get here, they’re going to completely refute this whole damned nonsense and I’ll be moving my things back in here anyway. Why wait?”

Elfhelm shook his head and tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow. “To begin with, your door hasn’t been repaired, your da’s orders. Second, he’s announced it to everyone who’ll listen that he caught us in my cloak. Had there not been other witnesses, we might be able to bargain with him, but…” they were now walking slowly down the hall to the back staircase. “Third, your da wants you out of Druncenig Ende, regardless of what it takes.” He shook his head. “You’ll not be moving back into that room ever again.” 

They mounted the stairs. “I know, I know. It’s all over that damned bastard Hucohun.” They arrived at Elfhelm’s room. He opened the door and ushering her in, quietly shut it behind them, dropping the bar. He took the candle she was holding and wandered around the room, lighting the lamps. As he left her side, Lýðrest was aware of a sudden chill. She hugged herself tightly. “I don’t understand it. Why does that mewling maggot-pie see in me? I’ve never shown him a bit of interest.”

Elfhelm finished lighting the lamps and there was a soft glow around the room. “That’s probably why.” He blew out the candle and laid the stick of wax gently on the table, a finger of smoke, rising from the wick. “You are a challenge.” He began to toe out of his boots and his belt. “Most men will accept ‘no’ from a women. Any Rider _will_ accept ‘no’ from a woman. He isn’t a Rider long if he doesn’t. If he cared about you, he would accept no, even if it wasn’t a very gracious acceptance. But the fact,” by now, Elfhelm was deep in thought, a finger wagging in the air, “that he was willing to share you in order to coerce his friends into aiding him, tells me it was simply the conquest he was after. Once he was done with you, he would have lost interest.” For a moment, he looked at her, taking her in. In the shadows, his hand came up, cupping and caressing her cheek. “How old are you, léoflic?”

Whether out of exhaustion or perhaps the gentleness of his touch, Lýðrest leaned into the palm of his hand. “I’ll be eighteen summers come the summer.” She did not see the Captain’s grimace in the shadows.

“So young,” he whispered, “to shoulder so much.” 

For a moment, she thought he would kiss her and her breath hitched, waiting for it. Instead, he turned her loose and moved around her, leaving her cold in his wake. “I’m going to check on Gauwyn one last time for the night. Get ready for bed. I’ll be back.” The door shut behind him with a whisper.

She stood there for a moment, wondering what on earth he said. Suddenly – 

“Béma’s Balls! He thinks… we’re not… fekking arsewipe!” The profanities were hissed, but unwilling to sleep in her clothes and slippers again, she ran to the wardrobe and grabbing her heaviest (but still threadbare) nightgown, she stripped down and into it, rushing to the bed and diving under the covers. Exhaustion immediately set in and drifting off to sleep, she wondered where the Captain would be sleeping.

How long she dozed, she didn’t know, but at some point, she was aware of being enveloped in that wonderful hot cocoon and the low rumble that accompanied it. As the warmth surrounded her, she slid deeper into sleep.

~~~…~~~

Hæfern and Marshal Gamhelm, along with a contingent of forty Riders, rode into the hamlet six days later. Their thunder was heard from a ways out, so Elfhelm met them as they came in. Holding Hæfern’s stallion’s halter, he motioned to both men. “We need to talk, we need to talk now, and we especially need to talk before Hamon comes out.”

“Hamon?” Hæfern was already snarling. “What warg pissed in his ale?”

“Me.” Hæfern raised an eyebrow. “Lýðrest and I were caught wrapped in my cloak and it’s not what you think.” 

“I’m listening.” Gamhelm was a man of few words, but fast action. He nodded to the rider behind, one who was obviously his son. “Gamling, take the horses to the barn.” He eyeballed the tavern and sparse buildings. “Pray there is enough room to house everyone for a day or two.” He glared at Elfhelm. “You were saying?”

Quickly, Elfhelm filled the Marshal in on the attack, the injuries to his men, especially to his brother. As discussed, Hæfern did order the younger captain to stay behind with his brother-

“As you should. Your mother would kill all of us if we left him behind. Shocked she didn’t follow us anyway when the two of you didn’t come back.” 

-and then he added Hæfern’s request regarding his niece.

“Hucohun is a piece of shite, a worthless human being, but he had his sights set on Hamon’s daughter. A week ago, Lýðrest overheard him laughing with his buddies. Apparently while she was working, they loosed the latches and the bar on her door, so a good shove would cave it in, as well as unlatched her windows.” Hæfern began swearing under his breath and Elfhelm was grateful he couldn’t understand much. “To make it worse, he offered his friends what was left of her after he finished. She had given Hamon something to help him sleep and there wasn’t time for her to repair the door on her own, so she ran upstairs, looking for an unlocked, empty room.”

“And found you.”

“And found me,” Elfhelm agreed. 

“My niece doesn’t scare easily,” Hæfern growled.

“No, she doesn’t.” Elfhelm’s voice was quiet and he didn’t back down in front of the furious Rider. “But that night, she was terrified. I put her in my bed, completely clothed. Béma’s Balls, she slept in her shoes. She was under the quilt, I was on top of the quilt, next to her, wrapped on my cloak.” 

At this point Gamhelm started to snicker. “Go on.”

Hæfern’s eyes rolled in the back of his head.

“I checked on my brother several times; he was running a fever and apparently I forgot to drop the bar on my door the last time I checked-”

Hæfern threw his hands in the air and turned his back on the two men. “Ah, fek me raw with a hot iron!”

“With or without spit?” Elfhelm interrupted sarcastically. It had not gotten past him that his commander had crossed his arms over his chest and was finding great amusement with Elfhelm’s predicament. “Either way, Gauwyn had a difficult night-”

“Hamon caught the two of you wrapped up.”

Elfhelm was rubbing the back of his head and Hæfern’s cursing had become more colorful. “We became spooned in our sleep. And he had two of the maids with him.” 

Gamhelm was now looking at the dust he was standing in, barely containing his laughter. “Anything else?”

Elfhelm figured he better come completely clean if he and Lýðrest stood a snowball’s chance in Angmar of getting out of this mess. “It doesn’t help that earlier in the day, Hucohun cornered her in the tavern and in a fury, she told him she’d rather be married to me than him.”

Hæfern was now swearing the paint from the buildings.

Gamhelm had his arms crossed and was earnestly kicking a small rock around with his boot. “Please tell me she’s comely.” 

The comment made Elfhelm’s stomach sink. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

Gamhelm shook his head with a rueful grin. “Oh, aye.”

Elfhelm bit his lip. “We’re not getting out of it, are we?”

The Marshal pursed his lips and shook his head negatively, a smile beneath all of it. “No.”

“DAMN!”

“Damn what?” The Marshal’s son, Gamling, stood next to his father. He was slightly younger than Elfhelm – twenty-four summers – and the two were good friends. Baring some silly stupidity, he expected to receive his own captain’s rank by the summer. “Why is Da laughing and why do you look like you’ve gone to a funeral?”

“Because I’m dead.” 

“Elfhelm apparently got married while he was here.” 

“Dead.” 

“WHAT? Béma’s Balls…” Gamling threw his hands in the air. “Couldn’t you find a quilt or blanket? Ah… dammit…” Elfhelm’s friend turned on him and stalked off, cursing to rival Hæfern.

Gamhelm took in the dejected look and shoulders of his young captain. “Son, you didn’t answer my question,” he started quietly. “Is she comely?” 

Elfhelm began to nod. “Aye, she’s beautiful. But when she opens her mouth,” he looked up at his superior, “it’s as if the shite-piles of the Dunlendings falls out.” 

“Ah. Rough around the edges, is she?” Elfhelm was completely crestfallen. Gamhelm clapped him on the back. “Well, let’s go in and I’ll tell you story about a young captain who was in your same dilemma some years ago and how he handled it. But first, I want to see your brother.”

~~~***~~~ 

Gauwyn had been improving by leaps and bounds and was now venturing from the bed to tend to his own personal needs. After the personal visit from the Marshal, it was decided he would take lunch in the tavern with the rest of the men.

“In the morning, I’ll take my fresh crew to where you had your skirmish.” He addressed Elfhelm. “You will come with us, show us where.” The man searched the rafters as if some missive of importance was hiding there. “I wish they’d just stay in their lands…”

“You and me both.” Elfhelm took a long pull from his ale. Lýðrest was peeking around the doorway, taking in the tall Rider with the dark strawberry blonde hair that looked more red in the dark and the extremely elaborate cloak. 

“Is that her?”

“Aye.”

Gamhelm lifted his mug, beckoning Hamon’s daughter over. With a scowl, she brought a pitcher and refilled the man’s cup. “He’s the Marshal? Did you talk to him?” She was obviously addressing Elfhelm.

“If you mean has he asked me if your problem can be solved quietly and quickly, no, it can’t.” Gamhelm nodded his thanks. “Too many people saw you wrapped and for him to set you aside would ruin you and him in the process. I have plans for this captain and I’ll not let something as an inconvenient marriage waylay him.”

“Inconvenient? You won’t let…. What the fek do I care about inconvenient? I don’t give a flying rat’s arse if I never marry!”

One eyebrow rose. “It would also leave you open to the attentions of unscrupulous men. I hear that was the very reason why you sought the good captain’s protection.” With this, Gamhelm toasted the two. “You have all of your teeth, don’t you?” Elfhelm grinned, showing off two perfect rows of pearly whites. Gamhelm snorted. “I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about her!” He nodded to Elfhelm’s wife.

Lýðrest gasped. “Why, you beslubbering, goatish, wargsbane!” The conversation in the tavern came to a standstill, her voice ringing in the rafters. She slammed the pitcher on the table, spilling suds all over the table. “Well, that’s just fine, but I fekking don’t have to like it and I don’t fekking well have to be nice about it!” She turned and flounced off.

“Oh, she is lovely!” Gamling was sitting on the other side of his friend. He filled his stein and drank deeply. “What a charming addition to add your family.” He rolled his eyes and continued to drain his cup. “Your mother will be overjoyed at the delicate rose you’re bringing home!” he spat sarcastically. 

Gamhelm was choking on his own laughter. “Look deeper, son. She has spunk. It would do you well to find a spunky woman to wive.” 

Gamling slammed his now empty tankard angrily to the table and stood up. “I’m never getting married. I don’t have time! Besides, women are work!” With that, he turned and left the table, the door to the pub slamming in his wake.

Gamhelm was completely non-plussed. He lifted his newly filled stein and spoke to no one in particular. “The day will come when that boy is knocked flat on his arse by a woman just like his mother. I pray to Béma I’m still alive to see it.” 

Elfhelm grimaced. “I’m so glad you’re having a great deal of sport at my expense, but it still leaves me with a serious problem.”

“Aye. You’ve been caught with a woman wrapped in your cloak that you simply sought to protect. Do you know how I met Aelwydd?” Aelwydd was Gamhelm’s wife – a beauty still even now well into her middle years. She had given Gamhelm a son and four daughters and could run a large farm, a manse, a hall, and a garrison without breaking a sweat. Soldiers jumped at her command as fast as they jumped to her husband’s. It was well known that Gamhelm adored his wife, and she him. A more devoted couple did not exist. 

“The first time I laid eyes on that wife of mine was at a tourney. Several garrisons, towns and homesteads came together each year to show off their yearlings, their mares and stallions. We jousted, gamed, traded.” Gamhelm picked up the empty pitcher and banged it on the table, garnering the ire of Lýðrest, who ignored them. A buxom young woman finally came over and swapped the pitcher with a newly filled one. Gamhelm began to fill his stein. 

“She was barely seventeen summers, had a backbone already made of mithril and a long braid of hair the color of sunshine. And her mare… the majority of our stock came from the mare of hers. A beautiful dapple gray that her father said he got from a homestead in the Wold.” He picked up his mug and began to drink from it. He was not known for long-winded stories, so the fact he was telling this one made Elfhelm listen. “She was stubborn, prideful, giving her father fits. She wanted to race with the men. He should have let her as she would win, but her da was a obstinate man. I watched her work herself into as fine a snit I’ve ever seen a woman work herself into and sure enough, after several hours of arguing with her da, she took off on her own.”

“Not very bright of her.”

Gamhelm smiled to himself. “Oh, no, but she wasn’t planning on disappearing. When she didn’t return after several hours, I offered to help in the hunt for her.” Elfhelm started to snicker. Gamhelm was one of the best trackers in Rohan and his son was following in his footsteps. “I sent her brothers and da in one direction and I-”

“Went straight after her.”

“Aye.” With this, Gamhelm smiled to himself, obviously caught up in a fond memory. “I found her easily just at sundown. The timing was perfect. Her horse had thrown a shoe and she was walking, scared shiteless, jumping at every sound. It was too late and too dark to try to make it back, so I built a fire, gave her some of my extra jerk strips and offered to share my cloak. She refused.” Elfhelm’s face was now in his hands, seeing where this was going. “After an hour of listening to the wolves call and her teeth chatter like pebbles rolling down a hill, I grabbed her and rolled her up to keep her warm. Last thing I wanted was to return her with frostbit toes. Her da and brothers found us the next morning all wrapped up in my cloak.”

“And the rest…” Elfhelm leaned back in his chair, leaning against the wall, the two front legs waving in the air. “… damn, what am I going to do?” 

Gamhelm nailed him with a stare. “Aelwydd wanted nothing to do with me. Rather than force the issue, I woo’d her.” Elfhelm started to laugh. He had known the Marshal for some years. There wasn’t a romantic bone in his body. “I told her she had two moons to become accustomed to the idea. I spent time with her, did things with her. Taught her to take better care of her mare, taught her to run a garrison, from assigning rotations to distributing pay.” He snarled. “Taught her to cook. Damn, I thought the woman would poison me early on. What she did to lamb was disgusting.” He waved his hand in the air. “I told her to plan a ceremony, all of it. Regardless, on the second full moon, we were having a wedding night, she was coming to live with me, and that was that. She came willingly and while we’ve had our differences, it’s been a good marriage.” Again, the pitcher was empty. “Woo her. Spend time with her. Someday, you’re going to have a garrison and she’ll aid you, if she’s trained properly. If she can’t fight, teach her. Teach her to be a better Shield Maiden, a better Rider. Find something you both like to enjoy together. Find something she likes that you can tolerate to enjoy with her. Marriages are arranged all the time, with people having less time to get to know each other. I hear the lords and ladies in Belfalas meet their mates the day of the wedding and the marriage is consummated that night. They even fly the bloody bedsheet in the morning, the barbarians!” With this, Gamhelm stood up and stretched, before clapping his young captain on the shoulder. “Whatever you do, don’t wait long to consummate the marriage. The longer you linger, the more difficult it will be to protect her, the harder it will be for either one of you to respect the other. Love might not come, but respect will. Don’t force her; take her gently, but take her.” Suddenly, he leaned forward, to whisper in Elfhelm’s ear. “You know, I don’t think Aelwydd ever discovered I loosened her horse’s shoe.” 

With that, the Marshal stalked off outside, his cloak, billowing behind him. 

_tbc_


	6. A Matter of Trust

****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Chapter 06 

****

A Matter of Trust 

Elfhelm stayed in the tavern late with Gamhelm and Gauwyn. His brother was finally getting color back in his very pale, wan face, and he tired quickly. 

“How much longer to I have to stay in the Béma-forsaken place?” he wheezed. “I rode in, I can ride out.”

“You did not ride in,” Elfhelm interjected. 

“Yeah,” Gamling exclaimed. He was eyeballing a few of the wenches. “I heard you rode in on Elfhelm’s lap like a bride!” He nodded to a plump blonde cleaning the tables in the far corner, her derriere wagging like a puppy’s tail. “Tell me about her.” 

“Diseased and ridden hard. Forget about it.” Elfhelm snapped. “Wait until we get home. Aedilthryd will happily take your coin and let you bounce her mattress all night.” 

“Is she really?” What little color was in Gauwyn’s face, drained.

“NO! I’m yanking Gamling’s reins and you better not have.” He nodded to his brother’s mug. “Drink your swill!” 

“Bleh!” Gauwyn spat. “I need food and a real drink!” 

Gamhelm had been listening to the conversation with a smirk. “You will come home when you are good and healed. Last thing anyone wants is for something to happen to you on the way! And when you get home, you will be handed over to your mother and Achae so they can dote and fuss over you for at least two weeks. I know Hereswið, she’ll stuff you with the best food in Rohan and Achae will spoil you. Enjoy your invalid status while you can!” He raised his stein. “That’s an order.” 

For not the first time, Elfhelm had grown quiet. Under hooded eyes, Gamhelm watched his young captain, watched how the Rider’s eyes followed his bride, this… wife not of his choosing.

Perhaps, Béma would be kind and it would work out.

Then again, more likely, Béma had a sense of humor and was playing one Dunlending of a trick on the young man. 

It wouldn’t be the first time.

~~~…~~~ 

Late, after closing up, after helping his brother into bed and making sure Riders and horses were taken care of and properly housed, Elfhelm made his way to his room. He knocked gently and after answering her call, waited for the bar to be raised. He shut the door quietly behind him, taking in the room lit only by bright moonlight.

Long ago, when the inn and tavern had been built, someone had coin and spent quite a bit on the place. Perhaps the town had been a busy thoroughfare, much like Aldburg now or there had been a wealthy estate or commerce center nearby. Whatever the reason, whatever the cost, whoever built the place had outfitted the second floor with real glass windows. Doubled paned, in fact. The downstairs had outer shutters that could be bolted from the inside, as many of the windows were broken. 

But his were intact, giving him a glorious view of the barn and the White Mountains. 

Lýðrest was standing in front of the window, obviously unaware the moonlight shone through her shift, outlining her slender body. Elfhelm’s body reacted immediately, his member springing to life. Willing himself to calm down – it had been a few weeks since he enjoyed a woman’s willing flesh – he walked up behind the maid who was suddenly and most decidedly his wife. Her hand, small and reddened from hard work, was placed, spread against the glass.

“What captures your attention so thoroughly, léoflic?” Elfhelm stood behind her, almost touching. He could smell the kitchen on her, the scent of ale and mead, mingled on her body. 

“The stars.”

Unable to see, Elfhelm pressed closer, pinning her to the glass and lower wall. He gently placed his hand over hers, covering it completely. 

_Much like he so desired to cover her…_

His chin rested on the top of her head as he looked. It was a cloudless night, the stars bright and plentiful. A full moon…

_…I told her she had two moons to become accustomed to the idea…._

“Lýðrest-”

“Sometimes, I wonder,” she whispered, the words tumbling nervously from her lips, “what they are, what they mean? Are they like the sun so far away? Are they other lands, like Middle Earth? Are there places like Rohan? Gondor? Why do they sparkle? Why do they move about in the sky?” 

Elfhelm was truly at a loss for words. When he was a young boy, he often wondered about the stars, but he hadn’t thought about them in years. “Lýðrest-”

“I’m not ready! Please don’t.” She attempted to turn, to push him away, but was unable to because he pressed her so close to the glass. Rather than allow her to escape, he gently clasped the hand so neatly trapped beneath his. 

“I’m not either. Breathe easy.”

Elfhelm’s body did not agree, but Gamhelm’s words had merit. He didn’t want to spend his life with a wife that hated him. Alchfrid and his wife, Æðelberga hated each other, despite four children. Until the youngest was married, he was forever out on campaign and once the last one was out of the home, he managed to arrange an assignment to a far-reaching outpost, happily leaving the woman behind – but not before arranging a portion of his pay be sent to her, to keep her housed and fed. Elfhelm certainly didn’t wish that for him or the woman pressed so enticingly against him. “Are you interested in star gazing?” 

It was quiet for a moment before she answered. “I used to wish upon the stars. Every night they were out.” She relaxed against him, again completely facing the mountains. “I wished for my mother back. I wished to see my da smile again. I wished to not work so hard, to not need so much.”

“What do you need, léoflic?” 

She opened her mouth to tell him, however no words came out.

“Léoflic?” 

Her features hardened. “Why do you insist on calling me that? Beautiful?”

She felt him snort, could see his smile in the reflection of the glass. “Because. You are.” He waited a moment. “So what wish do you ask the stars tonight?”

Again, her facial expression became like stone. “Wishing on stars is a waste of fekking time. They never come true.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. His hand still encompassing hers, he tapped a finger on the glass. “Tell the stars you are not ready.”

“Wha-”

“Tell them. Go on. Say it. I’m not ready.”

It was a whispered prayer, as her eyes rose to the twinkling lights in the night sky. “I’m not ready. Please give me time.”

Again, she saw his smile mirrored in the glass. “The stars are gracious tonight. Your wish is granted.” But rather than back off, he pressed closer to her, his warmth completely enveloping her. Strange, this feeling was, to have the cool glass pressed to her face and the heated body of the Rider pressed to her back. It was an odd, but not wholly unpleasant sensation.

“I will be up early in the morning. I am to go with the Marshal and the men he brought to patrol where we were attacked. If there are problems, we need to know. Do not,” he whispered in her ear, “pray for my demise. Your father will only find someone else to marry you and take you out of here.” He felt her stiffen up. “He’ll do it, you know. Are you that desirous of Hucohun’s attentions? I didn’t think so. And not many men would be as patient as I.” He snorted at a sudden thought. “You could end up with Gamling, the Marshal’s son. But I think he would fight it as much as you.”

With this, she relaxed. He was correct. Truth was, if he decided to take her there, that night, there was nothing she could do, save scream and no one would come. Her body was his. For some strange, odd reason, she trusted him, trusted him to keep his word.

“We will return to the garrison with Gauwyn, when he is ready to travel. That will probably be in two or three weeks. You will come with me. As a captain, I have a small, but comfortable sized quarters, separate from the barracks. It was just assigned to me, so you may decorate and set it up anyway you wish. It will be your home as well. If you have linens, valuables-”

“I have nothing. Everything I own or have is in the bottom of your wardrobe.” She paused before asking, “How much time has the stars granted me?” 

For a short time, he waited, feeling, hearing her breathe, waiting for her to relax. Once that was accomplished, his finger tapped the glass. “See the moon?”

“Yes. It’s full.”

“That’s right,” he nodded, his chin digging into the top of her head. “It’s full.” Suddenly, he dropped his voice, whispered in her ear, “You have two more moons to prepare yourself, to get ready. Plan a ceremony, get things ready, wrap your mind around it. I’ll wear the flowers if you wish, whatever. Wishing on a star gave you two moons to get ready.” Immediately, she stiffened up again, ready and prepared to argue, but he stopped her. “The longer we wait, the more difficult things will be. In order to protect you, keep you from harm, we must have a marriage. We cannot have a marriage without having a marriage bed. I would like it if you came to my bed willingly. You will like it better if you come to my bed willingly.” With this, his other hand brushed her hair from the side of her face and his breath wafted her ear. Without warning, there was a gentle kiss, his tongue, warm and wet, caressed the shell, the very rim of that delicate flesh, causing her knees to buckle. 

As she started to sink, his arm slid around her waist, holding her up. “Between now and then, I’ll not hide from you, nor sleep on the floor, much less with my horse. Get used to me.” With this, he turned her loose, her panting, raspy and ragged. She turned around to see him pulling off his tunic and toeing off his boots. He saw her staring at him, eyes wandering down to his groin. He was now wearing nothing but his woolens and his breeches, his erection very evident in the moonlight. His mouth turned up into a rakish, sensual grin. “Of course, if you change your mind – and I hope you will – I will be happy to introduce you to the pleasures of flesh before then. All you have to do is ask.”

With a gasp, Lýðrest flew from the window to the bed, diving under the covers and clinging to the very edge of the mattress. Elfhelm pulled off his leggings and stood only in his small clothes. He slid into the bed behind her, pulling her close. His last, coherent thought before going to sleep was how delightfully large her nipples were, straining against her nightgown.

He prayed to Béma she wouldn’t force him to wait two moons to make love to her. He was resigned to the marriage and now he wanted her.

This was going to be a difficult two moons. Why hadn’t he given her just one?

~~~…~~~ 

The group of Riders was spread out across the wooded dell, surveying what was left of the field of battle. There were no bodies, save the two putrefying Rohirrim horses that had died in the clash. Gamling was off his mount, studying the marks in the soil, his fingers gently grazing here and there.

“Well?”

The young man stood up, seemingly interested in the east, squinting into the filtered morning light, before turning towards the north entrance of the glade. In time, the creases his eyes became would become permanent; causing the woman who would finally capture his heart so many years from that moment to love him more. He pointed towards the west, into a particularly dense section of foliage. “They waited for you. There.” He gestured south, were the Rohirrim entered the glade. “And there.” The tall Rider made his way to where he was pointing, looking carefully before going into the thicket. Again, he squatted, unseen by the others, and making Elfhelm nervous in the process. Finally, he stood up. “They’ve been back. Waiting.” He kicked at something hard, causing dirt, sticks and leaves to fly in the air. “They plan to come back.” 

Gamhelm sat in his saddle and from the looks of the shape his mouth was taking, was sucking on his front teeth. After a minute, he smiled, evilly.

“Well boys, I say we leave them a gift. Something worth waiting for.” He looked around. “Hmmm?” 

Elfhelm took in his fellow Riders before joining in. “Yes sir!” Motioning with one hand, the Riders dismounted and began to work in the thickets, in the shade.

Four days later, they returned, taking in the destruction, the amount of blood flung on the ground, splattered on the trees. Apparently, the Rohirrim surprise had the desired affects. 

None dismounted, save Gamhelm, a sneer that most recognized on his craggy features. Reaching behind him, for a Rohirrim sword bought specifically for this purpose, he strode to the middle of the glade and taking the blade, he rammed it point down, into the bloody soil. The message was clear.

_Do not come back!_

_Tbc_


	7. 07 -   I've loved these days

__

The Sweetest Thing 

__

Chapter 07 

__

I’ve loved these days 

“What? You don’t… what?” Elfhelm looked at the woman in disbelief.

Lýðrest bowed up. Why did this Rider make her feel a finger tall? And how in fekking Mordor did she manage to become married to him? And how dare he… yell at her in front of a company of Riders, which in all honesty, made her feel smaller than a finger tall?

“Can we fekking well discuss this later?” She leaned towards him, her face snarled up in a similar scowl. She completely missed that Gamhelm was leaning on his saddlehorn, the lower part of his face hidden behind his hand, totally covering the snicker that so rarely fell from his features, but for some odd reason, had been very prevalent during his trip here. He looked over at his son, whose mouth hung agape in wonder.

“NO! We can’t discuss it later!” A rare Elfhelm temper was quickly becoming full-blown. “I have to figure out a way to get you to the garrison if you don’t ride!” Both hands were on his hips. “We’ve got to fix this,” he spat to no one in particular.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Gamhelm quietly responded. Two furious sets of eyes looked up at him. “We will be returning in ten days to aid in returning Gauwyn back home as well to as ensure our message where your men were attacked was received.” The Marshal’s eyes had darkened to color of a dark storm. “In that time, teach her.”

“But-”

The older Rider put up his hand to stop her tirade. “I am aware that the horses here are nags and I saw no usable wagons. We will bring a mount for Gauwyn, a packhorse for your household goods and an extra mare for you. I will chose her myself, ensure she is gentle and easy-going.”

“But-”

“Elfhelm’s stallion is well trained and should be willing to abide a different rider for a short time.”

“But-”

“Look girl,” Gamling interrupted. It was clear he was disgusted that the conversation was even taking place and he was still infuriated that his friend was now in a marriage not of his making to someone he considered beneath him. “If you walk, it will take us forever. The other alternative is slung over like the saddle of a pack horse!” He leered at the barmaid. “Although I’m sure your husband will enjoy the sight of your arse bouncing around in the air!” 

Lýðrest’s gasp was quite audible. “Why you fekking warg arse-wipe-”

She was cut short by the sound of a solid thump caused by the flat of Hæfern’s hand meeting the back of Gamling’s skull. “Y’might be the Marshal’s son and I like you well enough, but she is still my niece!” He nudged his horse forward. “Insult her again, I’ll kick your arse.” 

The two Riders glared at each other, unseeing that their Marshal frowned upon both of them. Gamhelm finally shook his head and returned his attention to the angry young woman on the ground. “As poorly worded as it was, my son is correct. The alternative is either walk or-”

“Please!” Lýðrest stepped forward, towards the Marshal’s horse. “It’s damned embarrassing!” 

“Well, you should be embarrassed,” Gamling hissed back. “You’re supposedly Rohirrim!” 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/07_zpsee204025.jpg.html)

Lýðrest doubled up her fist, but before she could fling herself at the man, Elfhelm’s hand lowered itself on her shoulder, pulling her to him. As she was pulled into his chest, his arm completely went around her upper chest, clasping her safely to him. “Gamling? Shaddup already.”

“Yes,” his father agreed. “Please. In fact,” He turned to his son, “leave. Now. Head out.” With an angry huff, Gamling turned and galloped out, leaving the town behind him. Gamhelm watched him dispassionately, shaking his head in disgust as the young man turned the corner, disappearing from sight. “Hæfern? Follow him. Smack him in the head every chance you get. I see I will have need to talk to my son about his manners.” He waited until the girl’s uncle also vanished around the corner. He looked back at the young woman still being gently restrained by her husband. “Lýðrest, if you wish to curse the boy, feel free.” He smiled as she inhaled, opening her mouth to do just that. “However,” he interrupted, “your best curse would be to wish a woman just like his mother on him. That will work just fine.” He nodded and smiled at Elfhelm. “You have ten days to teach her to ride.” Lýðrest turned to begin to lambaste the man, but before she could inhale, he turned his horse, looking at her over his shoulder. “It isn’t hard, Lýðrest. In fact, it’s as easy as sex.” And with that he turned and followed his son out of town. Elfhelm and Lýðrest watched as the group of Riders followed the Marshal and soon all that was left was dust. 

Leaving the young couple standing in the middle of the town. 

“I don’t have time for this shite,” Lýðrest hissed. “I have to help with the-”

“In ten days, you are leaving this Béma-forsaken settlement,” Elfhelm reminded her. “Your da is going to have to learn to run the tavern without you at that time. He might as well start now.” He nodded in the direction of the departed battalion. “There is a large pasture outside of town, out of everyone’s way. We’ll go there after lunch and we’ll get started. Actually,” he took a finger and closed her unhinged mouth, “I think we should pack a lunch and have a picnic.” He nodded to himself, satisfied at his plan. “That would be perfect. A picnic and horseback riding lessons. I’ll go to the kitchens now to get it started. Dress appropriately.” He turned to leave her in the dust, but looked back over his shoulder, winking. “Oh and darling,” he winked, “I will take you leaving your mouth open like that as an invitation to put my tongue in it.”

He grinned as her curses followed him into the tavern.

~~~…~~~ 

Hamon had a great deal to say about the plans Elfhelm had for Lýðrest, none of it nice.

“I’m sorry you’re so upset, Hamon, but please remember, you shoved us into this.”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing!” The captain leaned into his father-in-law, making it so no one heard but him. “I’d like to consummate this marriage and try to make the most of it, but I would like her willing. To do that, I have to woo her.” He swung the picnic sack, made up for him by the cook. “I also have to teach her to ride a horse and teach her the workings of a garrison. She and I have a lot to do, including getting to know each other. She is now my responsibility,” Elfhelm hissed. “Give over the reins!” And with that, he stalked out.

“He’s right,” Cynni spoke up quietly. “You made sure she’s married, happy or not. At least he’s willing to try.” She shook her head, her voice dropping more. “I’ve changed the bedclothes every morning. He’s not taken her yet. There’s been no blood.” She dropped her head in embarrassment at Hamon’s furious glower. “He’s trying to do right by her. He’s right. Give over.” With that, the wench ducked her head and attempted to leave the kitchen, but Hamon grabbed her arm.

“Did I do wrong? Did I do the right thing by her?”

With this, Cynni smiled. “Aye, you did the right thing. Hucohun wouldn’t stop until he’s had what he wants and he won’t care what condition he leaves her in. This one will care. He’ll care as long as there is hope. Maybe, he’ll soften Lýðrest up. A little.” With that, Hamon loosened his grip and watched as the woman went down the hall.

~~~…~~~ 

“This is a saddle. This is a bridle. These are called reins. That’s his rear-end. Don’t step back there. Always walk around the front where he can see you. If you startle him, he’ll kick. He also shites from that end and passes wind. You don’t want to be back there when he does that. His name? Yes, he has a name. It’s Heaðuwylm. Here. Hold your hand out. Flat, palm up. See this? It’s alfalfa. Hold it here. Wait. He won’t bite. Yes, I know it’s slobbery. So are you when you get a treat, I bet. Here, wipe your hand. He’ll love you forever now. That and apples and carrots. Here. Let me show you how to put on a saddle. Don’t be afraid.”

With more patience than even he thought possible, Elfhelm taught his bride to saddle his stallion. He snickered when while pulling the back strap of the saddle, she accidentally brushed the horse’s male member. She jumped back, blushing furiously, both hands about her ears. 

“Fekkin’…It’s… it’s…”

“Bigger than mine,” Elfhelm dead-panned. “Don’t worry. He won’t try to mount you,” he said with a grin, laughing to himself as Lýðrest turned redder. Finally, they saddled and geared the horse, with lunch attached to the rear of the saddle. Leading Heaðuwylm outside and shutting the door behind them, Elfhelm mounted and pulled forward. He extended a hand. “Put your foot in the stirrup and pull up.” 

Lýðrest stared up at him. “I have two perfectly good legs-”

The smile on the Rider’s face became set. He re-extended his hand. “Pull up.”

“Really-”

“Do not,” he said between gritted teeth, “make me get off and set you up in my saddle.”

“What’s the matter, Lýðrest?” Hucohun’s voice broke through the town’s center. He was leaning against the tavern wall, arms crossed, watching the goings on. “Never ridden a horse? It’s just like riding a man! Surely, your husband has broken you in by now.”

Lýðrest inhaled, ready to blister his ears, but her husband stopped her. His hand reached further. “Let’s not give him anymore entertainment than possible. You’re a better Rohirrim than he. Give me your hand.” His fingers spread. “Please,” he whispered.

Although she wanted to smack at him, instead she placed her hand in his. With some difficulty, she managed to get her foot in the stirrup and found herself pulled up behind the man. She was assailed with the scent of leather and her vision was filled with the expanse of a broad back. Her fists were clenched in her lap.

“Put your hands around my waist.”

“I’d rather not,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

“Suit yourself.” With that, Elfhelm kicked his horse into a fast trot, causing Lýðrest to screech and grab onto the only stable thing near her – Elfhelm. With one hand, he moved her hands to his waist. He looked over his shoulder. “Lean on me. Move with me. It will piss Hucohun off.” Lýðrest did as she was told and by the time they left the circle of buildings, she was moving as he told her and more comfortable than she wanted to admit. His back, his shoulders were wide, the wool of his cloak, scratchy against her cheek, but the muscle beneath was hard, warm and, in an odd sense, reassuring. 

They rode for about half an hour, making sure the settlement was far behind them. At some point, Elfhelm left the path and wandered away from anything remote to civilization. Soon they found a stream and followed it. By now, they were no longer at a low gallop, instead at a stately walk. He pointed over to a place marked by two trees. “We’ll eat there.” Once he reached the trees, he dismounted, leaving her in the saddle. For a time, he walked, leading her, correcting and stabilizing her posture. Eventually, he handed her the reins, instructing her in a walk, building up to a slow trot, some hours of infinite patience. He noted she was a fast learner, praised her for what needed to be praised and grinning when she blushed at the compliment. 

“You aren’t thanked for the job you do very often, are you?”

“What?” She pulled up next to him and he noted that her leggings and tunic were ill-fitted; borrowed from someone not her size. That was something else they would have to attend to before they left and most likely, after they arrived at the garrison. In the back of his mind, he had a feeling he was getting ready to spend a lot of coin to dress his wife properly. He saw many favors he was going to owe his mother and Aelwydd. 

“What?” Lýðrest was now glaring at him from her high perch. “Why are you staring at me, you paunchy flap-dragon?”

For the life of him, Elfhelm had no idea why he burst out laughing. “You realize, léoflic, it does things to me when you call me names.” He gestured for the reins.

“What?” Understanding that the riding lesson was over, she handed him the reins.

Elfhelm continued to laugh. “You are making me sexually aroused.” She gasped at that and seemed to be wildly affronted when he extended his hand. “And the thought of me being paunchy; I know better and so do you! Take my hand. ” After helping her dismount, he slung the reins over the pommel of his saddle and took the satchel that was still attached to the horse’s rump. He took off his cloak, spreading it up next to one of the trees and bid her to sit down. Taking the spot next to her, he pulled the satchel on his lap. “Hungry?”

Lýðrest was watching Heaðuwylm. He had wandered down to the stream and was drinking. “Don’t you need to tie him up?”

Elfhelm was rummaging through the satchel. “No.”

“But won’t he wander off? Run away?” 

“No.” Elfhelm found what he was looking for; two wine skins. He set them to the side and pulled out the meat pies made at his request. Ugly as she was, Tortgyð was an above average cook. Elfhelm had been forced to eat more disgusting slop in some places and he appreciated the time the woman took with what little she had to work with. “He knows who feeds him and he knows who his master is. I’ve never mistreated him, never given him reason to run away. Why would he wander off?” Elfhelm wasn’t about to tell her he had trained him not to wander. He unwrapped a meatpie and handed it to her. 

They ate in relative silence for a short time. A cool wind occasionally blew and Elfhelm was not caught unawares that Lýðrest slid closer and closer to him, seeking out the warmth from his body. When she finished, he handed her a wine skin. A nagging voice in the back of his head suggested if he gave her enough wine, he might get lucky right there on his cloak.

He squelched the thought. He wanted her willing, not sloppy-arsed plastered.

“So,” Lýðrest finally spoke, interrupting his nefarious thoughts, “when we move back to your garrison, I guess I’ll be expected to keep a clean house and have lots of mewling, puking babies. No more working for me.” 

“No, you’ll have plenty to do.” The sun was moving faster than he would like, but he was rather loath to remove her from his arms. “I’ll have a garrison of my own someday and as my wife, especially if we are in a small one or far from a major settlement, I’ll need your help with the running of it.” He looked down at her, taking in her contentedness and a smile he hadn’t seen before. “Do you read or write?”

“No,” she shook her head. “But I know money and can add and subtract it. Need to in order to run the tavern.” She smiled and snuggled in closer. “You’re cuddly and warm. I like that about you.”

The Rider frowned and took her wineskin. It was almost empty. “Do you drink very often?”

“Never had a chance.” She pointed at the skin. “That stuff’s pretty good. Can I have some more?”

Elfhelm was shocked. He figured a tavern wench had had her fair share of what she served. It didn’t dawn on him that she would…

Damn! She was virgin in more ways than one. For all her coarse language, she was as innocent as… as….

_Shite!_

“Actually,” Elfhelm tried to keep his over-active libido down, “I think you might have had a bit too much, too fast.”

Lýðrest propped her elbow up on his knee and cupped her cheek in her hand. “Are you saying I’m too tipsy to ride anymore today?” 

Damned if the wench didn’t look fetching with her hair blowing about in the early spring breeze, with that up-turned nose and… and… mouth… and… and…

Elfhelm leaned forward, his hand moving, cradling the back of her head. For a moment, his nose encircled, traced the tip of hers and when she didn’t pull back, his mouth found hers. For a short time, he stayed still, allowing her mouth to inexpertly explore his. Eventually, he broke the kiss. As he pulled back, he realized she looked startled, almost horrified at her own audacity. He traced her nose with his again, before smiling. “Lýðrest?” 

“What?”

“Allow me.” His hand still behind her head, he brought her in, guiding her, teaching her. This time, she allowed him to lead, followed it, nipping at him as he was nipping her. His entire body sprang to life and it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from taking her right there on the cloak. This time, when he broke the kiss, she sighed and snuggled in, allowing him to pull her close. He pulled up the edge of his cloak and wrapped her securely in it.

“Elfhelm?” She was obviously drowsy.

“Yes, léoflic?” 

“I like sleeping with you.” Her voice was quiet, wandering off.

“Do you now.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You snore,” she yawned, “but it doesn’t bother me.” And with that, she drifted off.

So that first afternoon outing, she learned a little about riding, a little about kissing and the two simply learned to like each other.

But she learned to gallop the next afternoon.

Two afternoons after that, Elfhelm produced two practice swords.

And surprise of all surprises, she put her tongue in his mouth.

_tbc_

 

 

Heaðuwylm – fierce


	8. 8. A Room of our Own

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 08 

__

A Room of our Own 

Gamhelm was true to his word. He chose a gentle, sweet mare for her and brought her with him for Lýðrest to ride to her new home. The mare was very pretty, chestnut with a blaze and four socks. Her white tail swished at the flies buzzing about, but she was more interested in the apple that Lýðrest was feeding her. Gamhelm said the mare was a gift from him and his wife, a bridal gift of sorts. She could name her anything she liked. 

But for right now, she stroked a velvet nose and watched tearfully as her things were tied to the pack animal brought as well.

Cynni and Belle surprised her that morning, bringing linens, gifts. They knew Lýðrest had no hope chest, had nothing prepared. She never intended to marry, never thought of it. Her life had been with her father, so this was all a surprise. As they helped pack the precious bedsheets and pillow cases, Cynni laid out an exquisite gown, exquisite to Lýðrest’s eyes at least, of a white, almost transparent lawn, not meant to sleep in.

“I know he hasn’t… the two of you haven’t yet,” she whispered. “And I don’t know why you’re waiting or he is, but when you decide to make a real marriage of it, you wear that!” 

“Cynni, I can’t take this!” Lýðrest tried to hand the garment back.

“Yes, you can.” Cynni took the gown from her and proceeded to pack it anyway. “I’ll be honest, I wore it once, on my wedding night. Coenwahl took one look at me in it, pulled it over my head and told me never to bother with such again!” Belle laughed at that. “I’m glad he didn’t rip it from my body.”

Lýðrest smiled wanly before admitting. “It scares me. It fekking well pisses me off, I’m scared of nothing except what is going to happen when our agreement is reached.”

“Agreement?” Belle perked up. “What agreement?”

Lýðrest dropped her head and whispered. “Once Gamhelm arrived and told Elfhelm and myself we were really married, Elfhelm gave me two moons to come to accept it. Not only has he been teaching me to ride, he’s been…well…”

“Kissing the captain!” Belle finished for her. “You lucky girl!”

“And sleeping in the bed with him, poor man.” Cynni finished. “He’s going to have blue balls, for sure.” 

“Blue balls?”

At that moment, Cynni jerked her head at Belle, who shut the door and the two women explained the full facts of life to Lýðrest. 

So now, she stood in front of a pretty mare she would get to name, that was hers, and watched dispassionately as her linens and clothing… and that… piece of lingerie that she was supposed to seduce Elfhelm with was pack in rolls behind her saddle and Gauwyn’s saddle. 

“Girl, are you not even going to say good-bye?” Lýðrest looked up into the eyes of her father, a man who this morning seemed to have aged another twenty years since last night.

“You hate me,” she whispered. “Why should I say good-bye?”

The man gently took the reins from her and tossed them over the horse’s pommel. Taking her in his arms, he drew her close, tucking her under his chin. “I love you. Don’t doubt for a moment I don’t love you. That’s why I’m doing this. He won’t ill-treat you, not like some others I could name.” In that moment, he looked up, over his daughter’s head, to see Hucohun leaning against the wall of the tavern, a mixture of revulsion and sarcastic arrogance plastered across his face. In a moment of fatherly protection, he drew her closer, clutched her tighter. “We’ve been through this. I raised you tough. Besides, Hæfern will be there. I’m not far; only a few days away. If you need me, I’ll be there. Once someone kills Hucohun, you can come visit.” That brought a chuckle from the young woman. Hamon tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her face and forcing her to meet his eyes. “That captain of yours is going to be somebody; a garrison commander and you’ll be a garrison commander’s wife. Surely, that is much better than being the tavern owner’s daughter. Please, Lýðrest. I love you more than my own life. Don’t leave me with angry words between us. I couldn’t bear that.”

That was what she needed to hear. No one was close enough to hear her, but her father heard her just fine. Both were teary – eyed when she mounted up and followed her husband out of town.

She didn’t look back.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/08_zps4bf7f4b7.jpg.html)

Hamon watched until there was nothing left but dust. He knew when the bastard sidled up next to him. 

“Happy? You could have given her to me just as easily and she’d have stayed he-”

Another one of Hucohun’s teeth went flying into the dust and he soon followed it to the earth. “You are filth and that captain is going to be somebody, something you’re not.” Hamon bent over and pulled the man from the soil by the scruff of his tunic. “I just sent the only thing that means shite to me away because of you and I’m thinking it’s long past time you found a new place to hang your gloves. A long, long way from here.” He shoved him away, throwing him back into the dirt. “Get the fuck out of here. If you darken my tavern again, I’ll put a hurt on you so bad you’ll never stand up again.” With that, Lýðrest’s father turned and stormed off. 

Hucohun pulled himself up, a snarl on his face. He wiped spit and blood from his face, looking at the streaked remnants of blood and dirt from his cuff. “I don’t think so, old man,” he muttered. “You’ve not seen the end of me. Neither has your bitch daughter!” With that, he got up, and strode off, not noticing those who turned away after watching the spectacle

~~~…~~~

By the time they pulled into Cantwaraburg four days later, Lýðrest was cursing anyone who came near her. Between riding in the saddle from sun-up to sun-down and then sleeping with nothing between her and the bare earth save her husband’s cloak, every muscle, every bone in her body hurt. If she were the type to cry, she would have. As it were, she damn near cried with relief when the garrison and the settlement surrounding it came into view. 

“Welcome home, Lýðrest. Welcome to Cantwaraburg.” Gamhelm almost had a smile on his face. He rode out in front, moving to the head of the battalion of riders. Lýðrest watched him with exhaustion. How could he stand to ride after all this time? Elfhelm had taken his place next to him and even he looked comfortable and at ease in the saddle. Lýðrest stayed in the center, next to Gauwyn, who in all honesty had spent more time with her and spoken more to her during the trip than her own husband.

“You’re hurting.” The young man was pale, but heartier than he had been in Druncenig Ende.

“How the fek can you tell?”

Gauwyn grinned at the woman. He’d gotten used to her earthy language, realized it was a defense mechanism for the most part and decided long before they left her home that he liked her. He figured she was just the thing for his perfect and oh – so – very proper older brother. Elfhelm needed a little spice and the tavern owner’s daughter was perfect. “You’re not used to being in the saddle. You do get used to it. Eventually. Ah. The family is coming to greet. Put your happy face on, Lýðrest. You’re getting ready to meet your new relations.”

Lýðrest decided her happy face was left unpacked in the wardrobe back at Druncenig Ende.

~~~…~~~

Luckily for her, at least in her eyes, Elfhelm’s family had been most interested in Gauwyn. A gaggle of women surrounded his horse, whispering, bickering, petting him. The eldest woman, who Lýðrest suspected properly was Elfhelm’s mother, went to Elfhelm first, following his nod toward Lýðrest. In an instant, the young woman realized, she was being inspected like some sort of farm animal and drew up angrily over the open scrutiny. Upon seeing Lýðrest’s backbone harden, the woman smiled, years falling from her face and patted her son on the arm. She then headed to her youngest and elbowing her way through the group of women, proceeded to fuss over him. 

“Ready to go home?” Elfhelm materialized at her side. He was windblown and hale and didn’t look a bit uncomfortable or sore. He was carrying her pack from Gauwyn’s horse in his lap. Reaching over, he took the reins from her hand. “Come on.” Slowly, he led her around the walled fortress and beyond the settlement. People came out from their homes, greeting the captain, many calling him by his first name. They smiled and stared curiously at the woman he was leading. 

Around the edge of the wall were several uniform cottages. Each one had small yards and diminutive gardens in the back. Elfhelm stopped in front of one and after dismounting, helped his wife from her horse. She was limping and stiff from being in the saddle so long for her and he winced at her grimace when she took her first tentative steps, bent over. 

“Béma, I hate you,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you do, Léoflic. I hate me too, if it makes you feel any better.” 

Lýðrest stood up straight, vertebrae in her back popping as she did so. For a moment, she stared at her husband, before breaking into a grin and laughing harder than Elfhelm had ever heard her laugh. It caused him to smile and for a moment, the two of them shared a happy moment together, causing their neighbors to come out and stare. 

Eventually however, Elfhelm’s chuckle turned into a rather sweet, gentle smile. Stepping in front of her, he opened the door to the small cottage and dropped the saddlebags just inside. “I’m going to put the horses up. Usually,” he whispered quietly, “you should tether and curry your own horse, but I know you’re hurting, so I’ll do it for you today. I have some things to tend to for a few hours, but I’ll be back by dinner. Go on in and get situated.” He kissed her on the forehead, and turned to leave. “OH!” He turned back around, still walking backwards towards the horses, “My mother will probably show up shortly, once she gets Gauwyn situated and knowing them, she’ll probably bring my sisters as well. Don’t let them take over,” he winked. Taking both sets of reins, he walked off, leaving her standing in the dust. She watched him for a moment, suddenly alone. She shivered in the spring breeze, before steeling her screaming backbone and turned to the house.

 _Her House. Hers and Elfhelm’s._ She never thought about having her own home, didn’t consider it ever and now all of a sudden, she had a house, her own garden and her own horse – a horse she still hadn’t named. Perhaps, she should just name the sweet mare Æppel, seeing how she loved them so much. Elfhelm told her she would spoil the mare and make her fat and useless if she continued to feed her every apple from every apple tree they passed. She had a husband as well; one she admitted to herself was more patient than she. He was kind, she would give him that much. In a way, she felt bad, especially after what Cynni and Belle told her, what he must be experiencing when he slept and snuggled with her. She wondered, for not the first time, if she just shouldn’t go ahead and give in; let him have her…

Bah, by all that was fekking holy, he gave her two moons and by Béma, she was going to wait her two full moons! She took a deep breath and stepped up into the house.

It was dark.

No, really. It was dark in the house. She couldn’t see shite. Every window was closed, shut up and she bumped into something in her way. With a curse, she pulled the door as far open as she could get it and propped it with a saddlebag. Now able to see somewhat into the gloomy interior, she made her way to the windows, unfastening and throwing them open, latching them back. Once they were all released, she turned to look closer at her new home.

It was small and it smelled as if it had been closed up for a long time. Well, it wasn’t so small; it was bigger than the room she had at Druncenig Ende and the room she shared with Elfhelm, but considering everything…

There was a large fireplace, large enough for her to step into. Taking a closer look, she could large hooks that swung in and out. Not only was it made to keep the cottage warm in the winter, it served a two-fold purpose for cooking. As she turned, she saw a cupboard and sideboard, a small, but serviceable table with two chairs. There were two benches in front of the fireplace. Walking across the small sitting area, she opened the cupboard to find a few trenchers, an earthen mug and two small, thinning pots. Obviously, her kitchen was ill equipped. Wandering away from the sitting area, there was a darkened area in the back. Squinting, she found a bed that would barely be big enough for the two of them, along with a chamber pot sitting in the corner. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed and opening it, she realized it was full of his clothes and no room for her few things. She turned back towards the door and it hit her how bare the house was, that it was meant for one man, not a husband and wife and as it stood, was barely suitable for the two of them.

Clearly overwhelmed, she returned to the sitting area and sank onto one of the benches. She stared into the cold fireplace, her mind running in circles.

What had her da done to her? She needed to unpack, but unpack where? Dinner. Elfhelm said he’d be back by dinner. Was she expected to cook? And cook what? In what? Were they expected to share a trencher? And the chamber pot, there was no privacy screen. Were they expected to… do their business in front of each other… Béma! 

_I’m not going to cry I’m not going to cry dammit to fekking Mordor I’m not going to cry fekking shite can I run home…_

She sat there a long time, her back, legs, going numb. She didn’t hear the activity, the noise, going on outside her door. 

“Lýðrest? It is Lýðrest, isn’t it?” A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped completely from her perch.

“What? What in fekking… how did you get in? How did you know my name?”

The woman was in her middle years, her rust-colored hair, starting to go gray. This woman had openly perused her when she arrived and without introduction, Lýðrest knew who she was. Realizing the light had dimmed in the room, she looked over her shoulder to the door to discover it was crowded with females galore; young women to young girls. Off to the side, was another middle-aged woman, looking at her with a rather calculating gleam.

“Oh honey, you’re stiff.”

“No shite! I’ve been in a fekking saddle for four days! Who are you?”

There were several shocked, sharp intakes of breath from the group and the two middle-aged women looked at each other, communicating silently. They nodded to each other before the one before her addressed the group. “The lot of you run on home.” A chorus of robust disappointment rose up from the group. “Do not argue. You can get to know your new sister later. She’s tired and needs a hot bath.” Elfhelm’s mother turned to look around, clearly now in command. “No tub. What is it with men and bathing in the river! Why are all of you still here? Shoo!” She pointed to the other woman. “Aelwydd! There is no tub in here. How is she supposed to have a relaxing bath?”

“I’ll take care of that – oh look, just the right timing!” The woman – Aelwydd – stepped to the door. “GAMLING! You and your father retrieve our tub and bring it here! DON’T YOU ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME! I DON’T GIVE A WARG’S BUTT IF YOU’RE TALLER THAN I AM! I CAN STILL TAN YOUR HIDE! JUST DO IT!” She stepped back, glaring. “AND BRING MY HERB KIT! YOUR FATHER KNOWS WHICH ONE! AND ALL MY BIG POTS!” She stepped back in with her arms across her chest. “I swear that boy gets more and more obstinate each day!” She nodded hard once at Elfhelm’s mother. “He needs a hard-headed, stubborn woman to take him in hand!” 

Lýðrest eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two. “I thank you very much for the bath, but would you mind telling me who in Forodwaith you are and why you’re in my home?”

It was silent for a moment, while Lýðrest waited expectantly. “Well?”

Finally.

“Gamhelm said she was earthy and a bit rough around the edges.”

“A bit what??? Rough? What the-”

“I am Hereswið, Elfhelm’s mother,” the woman interrupted her smoothly. She stepped around the bench and took Lýðrest by the hand. “This,” she nodded to her companion, “is Aelwydd, Marshal Gamhelm’s wife.” That one dipped her head as well. “We’ve come to help you unpack, see what we can do help you get settled, but,” she looked around the spartan quarters, “it appears this won’t be a job done in a day. Are those two saddle bags all you have?” Lýðrest nodded mutely. Aelwydd was checking the cupboard. 

“Looks as if when Berctuald was transferred to the Eastemnet, his wife took everything with them!” She waved the two pots. “I wouldn’t put anything in these, they are so thin! Their dinner would end up all over the fire! Tell me, girl,” Gamling’s mother addressed her, “do you know how to cook?”

Lýðrest, exhausted as she was, didn’t appreciate being backed into a corner by two women she didn’t know. “No, I don’t fekking cook! I’ve run my da’s tavern for the last ten summers, thank you very fekking much! I’ve had no time learning the-” and with this her voice went up and octave and simpered, “genteel lady arts!” She sat down with a plop. “I’ve spent my life keeping paws off of me, pulling brews and hauling caskets of ale.”

“I take it you’re used to keeping men in line?”

“Did a damn fine job of it until some unmuzzled foot-licker decided I was his next conquest and wouldn’t take no for an answer!” 

By now both Hereswið and Aelwydd were perched on the bench, hands on their knees, across from Lýðrest. “So that wild tale that Gamling told us about Elfhelm hiding you in his bed and then spooning up with you in his cloak is true?” 

Lýðrest snorted and nodded affirmatively. “My da and two of his serving women caught us, even though I was in my clothes and shoes and under the quilt and Elfhelm was on top of the quilt, wrapped in his cloak! Nothing I could do would sway my da.” She stared up at the rafters, praying to find a solution. “By the time the Marshal got there, he said we were good and married and might as well get used to it. Who in all of Béma’s children, gets caught wrapped in a cloak, unintentionally and fully clothed?”

Aelwydd leaned forward, smiling brightly. “I did! Best mistake I ever made!” There was much noise suddenly as Gamling and his father entered the bungalow, carrying a large tub. They set it down in front of the fireplace and began to pull the pots from it, as well as some firewood.

“I supposed you want us to draw water from the well?” Gamhelm’s voice was droll. “I figured as such. Come on, Gamling. Stop glaring at Lýðrest. You’re not making her feel welcome.” The women watched and waited until the two men left the cottage. Aelwydd pulled her herb kit from the tub and digging through the sack, found flint. She knelt in front of the fireplace and began to strike the flint, quickly starting up a small fire.

“Can you count money?”

“Yes!” 

“YES!” Hereswið pumped her fist. “Excellent! You are going to fit in perfectly!”

“Fit in?” Lýðrest was now fully exasperated, worn out and wanting nothing more than to crawl into the unquilted bed and go to sleep. “What in Gates of Isengard are you talking about?”

The two women grinned at each other before Aelwydd spoke up. The woman spoke so fast that Lýðrest could barely understand her. “My husband might be Marshal, but I run that garrison. Hereswið runs the tavern, you’ll feel right at home there, I’m sure.”

“Someday,” Hereswið picked up, “Elfhelm will have his own garrison, will be a highly ranked captain with at least one complete éored under his command if not more. He’s going to need a wife who can handle the garrison, handle the payroll, paying the soldiers and make sure the stock and inventory of the weapons, food, tack, and supplies are adequate and well fortified.” 

“She’ll need a level head, take no guff from the men, much less from her husband-”

“-and run that place like a well bred horse! And that’s-” Hereswið jabbed her finger in Lýðrest’s sternum, “is where you step in!” 

 

_tbc_


	9. 9 - Everybody Loves You Now

****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Chapter 09 

****

Everybody loves you now 

~~~...~~~ 

Elfhelm was grateful everything hadn’t fallen down around his ears while he was gone. Although he was the lowest captain in the garrison, he was still captain and there were duties he had to perform; scheduling rotations and making sure payroll had been dealt with. Thankfully, Gamhelm’s wife, Aelwydd, had stepped in, taking over as only she could and quietly made the arrangements and distributed the salaries of the soldiers. Sure, they would understand he wasn’t there to oversee it, but men needed to be paid. They had families, responsibilities.

So after going through the paperwork and thanking Béma for intelligent women, he decided a quick ale at the Three-Legged Rider was in order. He’d received word from his mother that she intended to feed them this night and he figured his little home was crawling with women. If he was lucky, he’d arrive back home about the time the dust settled down and the extra females were gone.

The bar was full, full of Riders and single men. The Three-Legged Rider was not the family tavern his mother ran. His mother was interested in feeding a man’s stomach. His aunt, Earcongotæ, on the other hand, was more interested in feeding a man’s libido. He no sooner sat down, before he had company.

The buxom blonde plopped herself in his lap, her laces loose and her breasts easily accessible. She handed him a tankard. “I hope and pray to Béma the rumors aren’t true.”

Elfhelm took the mug and drank gratefully from the froth. Paperwork was nasty work that left one with a dry mouth. “Ah, that’s cold and I thank you! What rumor would you be talking about, Aedilthryd?” 

She sidled in closer, more intimately, her blouse now completely open and her pert nipples openly displayed to him. “Why, that you got married.”

“Really? Who told you that?” He reached across and pulled her blouse closed. A man could take just so much temptation. 

“Oh, the garrison is just talking about it!” She put both arms around his neck and began to play with his ears. “And they say you married some nasty wench with a trash mouth from Druncenig Ende, of all places.”

Elfhelm winced and Aedilthryd caught it. “I did not marry some nasty wench. I married Hæfern’s niece, who also just happened to be the tavern owner’s daughter.” The girl’s mouth dropped, flapping in shock. “And before you ask, yes, I do like her a lot.” He set the empty stein down on the side table and stood up, with the girl still in his arms. “Gamling! Here! Take this!” 

Gamling had just entered the tavern, looking for nourishment not found in a kitchen. “What?”

“Take her.” He plopped the girl in the tall redhead’s arms. “She needs an itch scratched and I’m in no mood or condition to do it.” 

Aedilthryd was giggling now and kissed the young man on the mouth. “I’ve missed you, too! Think you can handle me?” 

Gamling’s face lit up in a playful grin. “What? You think I won’t be enough?” 

“Oh,” she dragged her finger around the neckline of his tunic. “Normally, yes you could, but you’ve been in the saddle and Elfhelm has been gone and doesn’t want to play and I’ve been sooooo lonely. I’m liable to be just insatiable.”

Gamling spun around, the whore still in his arms, searching the men at the bar. "Háma !”

Háma looked up from his cards. “Not now. I’m in the middle of a good hand.”

The door was opening, several more Riders coming into the tavern. Gamling’s smile now split into a huge, almost evil grin. “Théodred! Ho!”

“No, I’m not!” the king’s son laughed. “You’re holding the ho!” 

Aedilthryd was giggling. “I am not a whore! I’m an honest working girl!” She found herself thrown in the air and as she landed, repositioned over Gamling’s very wide shoulder, his hand possessively on her rear. 

“Well, I plan to work you all night! Théodred! Come give me a hand!” He turned so the girl’s backside was high in the air. “Look at this! You know you want some!” 

Théodred was grinning. “Oh yeah.” He smacked the wench on the rump, making her yelp. “I’ll aid a fellow Rider in wearing this one out! Let me grab a pitcher and up we’ll go.” The pitcher was already pulled and on the bar as the two men and woman thundered up the stairwell and down the hall, Aedilthryd squealing the whole way. The noise tamped down when her door shut.

“So, it’s true?” A new, more mature voice was sitting next to the young captain. A refilled tankard replaced the empty one. Elfhelm picked it up and took a drink.

“Aye, Aunt Earcongotæ. It’s true.” Finally, he turned to look at the middle-aged woman who owned and operated the bar. “I’ve married Hæfern’s niece, Lýðrest. Her father owns the tavern in Druncenig Ende.

“Mighty fast work, boy. How did this happen?”

Elfhelm made much of taking a long draw from the deep goblet. “She was in a bad, bad spot and I helped her out. Thing is, it was misconstrued and now I have a wife that I need to convince to be a wife.”

Elfhelm stared long and hard into the cold fireplace across from him, knowing the woman next to him was scrutinizing his every movement and facial expression. “Sounds like Gamhelm and Aelwydd.” Elfhelm nodded, never truly acknowledging his aunt. “Have you asked their advice?”

“Talked to Gamhelm.”

There was a loud thump above them. Earcongotæ looked upwards at the ceiling. “That room will be bouncing all night. I’ll have to see if that girl has tomorrow off. She might be worthless if that keeps up. If you talked to Gamhelm, you got good advice.”

“I did. Gave her two moons to get used to the idea. Plan a ceremony. I even agreed to wear the flowers.” He shuddered at that. 

His aunt smacked him on the arm. “The flowers is the easy part, Elfhelm.” 

Elfhelm smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

“In the meantime,” the woman gestured to her bartender, who brought her a cold mug as well, “where are you sleeping? Please tell me you’re not sleeping with your horse!” 

Elfhelm raised the mug again, realizing he had reached the bottom of this one as well. “Oh no,” he whispered with a satiric grin. “We’re sleeping in the same bed.”

“Ah!” His aunt smiled. “So there isn’t much for her to get used to.” 

Elfhelm rose and set the mug on the table. “We’re not doing anything. Just sharing the bed. She was clothed and in her shoes under the quilt and I was on top in my cloak. We spooned up in sleep. That’s all that happened when we got caught.”

The brothel owner’s tankard stopped midway up. “And you’re still wanting to make a go of it? No way to set her aside quietly?”

“No choice. Gamhelm said so. We were caught by her father and two serving girls.” Earcongotæ nodded in understanding. “Earcongotæ?” She lifted her eyes in response. “Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Eni hadn’t died and left you with three children? Why didn’t you remarry?”

His mother’s sister thought hard for a moment. “No man has ever made me feel like Eni did. And if he had lived,” Eni had been a promising young captain, cut down in his prime in an orc attack on the Eastenmet, “I wouldn’t be doing this. I would be in charge of a garrison. It’s the same thing, really, you know. Not much difference between a garrison and a brothel. Just different…” there was another loud thump on the ceiling. “…stock. DAMN THEM! If they come through the floor, I’ll take it out of all three of their hides!”

~~~...~~~ 

Lýðrest found herself stripped and in the tub in no time flat. Oils were poured in the water, a variety of scents rose in the steam. No sooner than she emmersed herself, the two women immediately set to unpacking her few things. Aelwydd had two cook pots, one boiling water for tea and the other with a wonderful smelling stew staying warm. Lýðrest slid lower into the tub as she realized that the few linens that were gifted to her were miniscule indeed. She was supposed to have something called a ‘hope chest’ in which she and her mother were supposed to have added to since her birth. Lýðrest was infuriated that these two women thought she might be lacking in any way. It wasn’t like she planned on getting married ever! She was about to tell them such, when Elfhelm’s mother pulled the last piece out of the last saddlebag. “Oh, Lýðrest! This is beautiful!” She turned to face the young woman in tub, holding up the delicate piece of lingerie. “He didn’t tear this from you?” She nodded to Aelwydd. “I’m surprised it isn’t in shreds!”

“I’ve not had a chance to wear it yet. We haven’t…” her voice trailed off.

Both women looked at each other. “Where,” Aelwydd asked gently, “has he been sleeping?”

“With me!” she cried. “And before you start about how painful it is for him, I know. But he gave me two moons and by Béma, I’m taking two moons!” Finally, the deluge of tears began, tears Lýðrest had denied herself for years. “I didn’t fekking want to get married! I didn’t fekking plan to get married! I certainly didn’t fekking plan to get married to someone who lived so fekking far away from my da!” 

Somewhere in the midst of her tears, she realized water was being poured over her head and strong, but gentle hands wove soap through the long locks. She continued to cry while her hair was rinsed and then strong hands kneaded her shoulders. “Poor thing. Tired. Exhausted. Away from everything that’s normal in your eyes. Hard to transplant a rose when it’s just been yanked haphazardly from the ground and shoved in new dirt without any nourishment or aid. Here, sweetling. Drink this.” 

Lýðrest found a steaming cup of something placed in front of her. Taking it with the tips of her fingers so as not to get burned, she blew in the top. “This has comfrey and willow bark. I can smell it. And I’m no delicate rose!”

“Aye,” Aelwydd said behind her. “You’re hurting and this will help your aches and pains and just so you know, roses aren’t delicate. They are rather hardy and grow in strange places. They have thorns for a reason, to cling, to climb towards the sunshine, but one does have to take care of them and treat them with great respect.”

“Here,” Hereswið sat next to her, trencher in hand. “Give me the cup.” Lýðrest obediently handed it over and took the trencher, the smell of the hardy stew making her mouth water. “Eat up and don’t worry about manners, today. We’ll drum that into you later.” The stew was delicious, much better than the dried tack and wild game the men charred on the fire on their trip back from Druncenig Ende. Lýðrest concentrated on the food in her hand, vaguely listening as the two women worked behind her, not caring they went through her medicine bag, nodding in agreement at her obvious knowledge.

“You sewed up my son and aided in his healing.” Hereswið was sitting next to her again, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Gauwyn says you saved his life, bathing him and then sewing him up and making poultices and teas to help him and making sure he came home.”

Lýðrest’s body was relaxing, the food and the tea doing their job on her body. “There were three I tended to. He was the worst.” She looked over to her mother-in-law, her eyes heavy. She handed the now empty trencher back to the woman. “I couldn’t let him die in the bed. Not under my da’s roof.” Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, the fire in it still evident. “Not on my watch.” She looked up to see tears freely flowing down the woman’s face. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m happy. You saved my youngest son’s life. I love you already as if you were my own.” She nodded once, really a dip, before standing up.

Aelwydd made up the bed while Hereswið bonded with her new daughter-in-law, using the linens Lýðrest brought with her and spreading the thin quilt left at the foot. The woman was making note of the things she saw the cottage was going to need: cook pots, mugs, eating utensils, a wardrobe, pillows and a new quilt. The mattress needed restuffed and unless Elfhelm had forgotten a saddlebag or two, his bride needed clothing and needed clothing bad. She owned little more than what she wore. Tenderly, the woman put the filmy piece of lingerie in the trunk at the foot of the bed and laid out one of the girl’s nightgowns, noting it was thin and over-worn as well. She shook her head. What was her father thinking, not keeping up with his daughter’s needs? Didn’t he have a clue? Perhaps he had done the best he could by her and maybe Elfhelm was her meal out of whatever purgatory she hailed from. If that was the case, she didn’t blame the girl’s da one bit for forcing this marriage. As it were, they would be sewing for days, but it needed to be done. 

Suddenly, the cottage was diffused with light, Elfhelm stepping into the home. Lýðrest was more asleep than awake in the cooling water and with her back to the door, didn’t seem to notice. Quickly, his mother made her way to him. “Go to the house,” she whispered, “and have your sisters give you a few big towels. Your home and bride,” she gently admonished, “are sadly lacking the necessities and niceties.”

“Neither one of us planned-”

“I know.” She shoved him out the door. “We’ll fix that, but it might take a few weeks. Go get the towels and I’ll have dinner hot for you when you return.” She pulled the door gently to, before going to the fire and moving the hook with the stew back over the low fire. 

Elfhelm returned soon enough, in time to watch his mother sit behind his wife, still in the tub, brushing out her damp, long hair. Unbound, it was glorious and truth was, he hadn’t seen it in anything but a braid, long and thick down her back. With a whispered finger to his lips, he sent them out, before sitting down behind her and finishing the job. Gently, he platted it, much like he did his horse’s tail, noticed and cursing himself for the stiffness obvious in her shoulders and back. Tenderly, he caressed the stiffened knots so visible, hearing her sigh in relief as he worked the knots out. She didn’t seem aware of his presence, much less that they were alone. He allowed her to lay languid in the tub, while he spooned up and ate the stew his mother left. The two women were adroit in running the tavern as well as the garrison and he had no doubt they would teach the runnings of such well to his wife.

He just needed to teach her to be a wife and from his observations of his da and mother as well as from his Marshal and his wife, the best way to teach was to show compassion, tenderness and to lead with rewards and a calm hand. Right now, Lýðrest needed all of that and badly. When he finished with his stew, he set the bowl on the table and pulling the quilt back from the bed, he picked up the towel he retrieved from his mother’s. 

“Stand up, léoflic.” Lýðrest did such, making no remark that the command came from her husband, not her mother-in-law or the Marshal’s wife. Elfhelm forced himself not to gaze on her, the slenderness of her curves, the beauty of her. Wrapping her up in the towel, he lifted her from the tub, and carried her to the bed. He set her down lovingly and dried her off, before tossing the towel aside and drawing the linen nightshift over her. “Up you go.” Lýðrest groaned as she climbed into the high bed and scooted over to the wall. He threw the quilt over her and blew out the lamp that was next to the bed.

Realizing there was a mess, he put the dishes and the now empty pot on the sideboard, before stoking the fire to a roar. He then began the long, arduous process of emptying the tub, tossing the water out of the door bucket by bucket. His mother lamented why men used the river. She had never had to empty a tub, much less fill it! The river, while cold, was more convenient! Either way, he figured now that he had a wife, he better get used to having a tub. Which meant, he needed to acquire a tub. He had a feeling the rainy day he had been saving for had come with the ferocity of a summer storm and his saved meager silver was probably getting ready to dry up.

Which reminded him; whose tub was this? He didn’t have a tub…

He shook his head as he pulled the drop bar on the door and closed the windows, save one. He didn’t worry about thieves or miscreants crawling through the window. Only a crazy man would attempt mischief in a captain’s quarters in the garrison. It was spring and while the night was cool, it was a welcome contrast to the fire in the hearth. Quietly, he crept to his bed, stripping off down to his small clothes and laying his clothing neatly on the chest. He crawled in the bed with his wife, curling up and spooning her to him.

Somewhere, deep in the back of her sleeping soul, Lýðrest realized her husband had put her to bed and when the low rumble began in her ear as he pulled her into the protective cocoon of his embrace, she blissfully fell deeper into sleep. 

 

_tbc_


	10. 10. And so it goes

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 10 

__

And so it goes 

Lýðrest woke up with a groan and then a smart smack on her arse.

“What in fekkin-” She sat up, fists at the ready, before realizing her back and thighs were still stiff. “Ow!” She glared at the cause of her stinging bum. “Why’d you do that?” 

Elfhelm was up, dressed, and smiling. He was holding two mugs, one of which he handed her. “Caffe. I just brewed it. Here. It will wake you up!” 

With a scowl, Lýðrest took the steaming mug and drank the bitter brew. She looked at him with a frown. “You brew a good cup,” she admitted grudgingly. “Why’d you hit me?”

“I didn’t hit you.” He actually sounded appalled, hurt that she would make such a claim. “I smacked your arse. Time to get up.”

She started to lie back down, but she had a semi-full mug of hot caffe in her hands. “I’m hurting.”

Elfhelm’s features softened somewhat. “I know you are. That’s why you need to get up and move. It will help.” She finished the cup and with great stiffness, swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Seeing the empty tub against the wall, It dawned on her she remembered very little of anything after she ate the night before.

“Elfhelm?” He looked at her expectantly. “I don’t remember going to bed.”

For a moment he stared, knowing the unasked question, before deciding to answer. “You were more asleep than awake when I arrived. I braided your hair, got you out of the tub, dressed you, and put you to bed.” He threw a finger up, cutting off her retort. “Aye, I gave you two moons to get used to the idea of our marriage and us consummating the marriage. I said nothing about treating you like a sister.” He turned his back and put his empty mug on the sideboard. “It’s not like I’m not going to see you. Wouldn’t matter anyway. You were hurting and stiff and needed a helping hand last night. Seducing you was out of the question.”

Lýðrest’s feet hit the floor and suddenly, she had needs that had to be taken care of. “Uhm… Elfhelm?” She glanced at the chamber pot.

Elfhelm knew immediately she wanted privacy. “I’m late, so I’ll be quick. You need to get dressed. The Marshal’s wife and my mother will be here shortly. They said you are in need of clothes and we are in need of some homey touches to this place, including I’ll bet a privacy screen and a tub. After that, Aelwydd is going to teach you to run a garrison and a larger household. For some reason, they think I’m going to be something and I’ll need your help.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “In the afternoons, my mother said you can help her in the tavern.” He ducked his head. “You’ll be comfortable. Also, when I’m out on campaign, you won’t be alone, twiddling your thumbs, if you’re there.” He took a step towards the door, before turning back, with a grin. “Oh. Forgot.” He bounced across the room and cupping her face in his hands, kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, making her gasp. He pulled back, as if to inspect her. “Get used to that every morning and every night. See you at dinner time.” And with that, he tossed up the drop bar and dashed from the little house, leaving Lýðrest stunned and fingering her tingling lip.

She almost wet herself, trying to get the door shut and the bar dropped before getting back to the chamber pot.

~~~…~~~ 

Aelwydd and Hereswið kept her as busy, if not more so than she had ever been back at Druncenig Ende. It was decided (without Lýðrest’s input) that the most important thing she needed was clothing and things for her home. Aelwydd’s eldest daughter, Beornia, had just had a growth spurt and normally her outgrown clothes would go to the next sister – Mayda – but Mayda had had one as well and now stood taller than her elder sister. The younger ones – Orva and Sulis – were much too small for the clothing, so they came to Lýðrest. Overnight, Lýðrest discovered she had a new wardrobe and one nicer than anything she had ever owned, even if it was second-hand. She was lost behind the quilt-rack, a spinning wheel, taught arts she never knew existed.

“What’s wrong with her?” Æðelhild, Elfhelm’s youngest sister was nine summers and a busier know-it-all, Lýðrest had never met! “Elfhelm had to teach her to ride! Everyone knows how to ride! Everyone has a hope chest! I have a hope chest! And she can’t sew! Was she dropped on her head?”

“Shhhh!” Elfhelm’s mother tried to shush the child, but she wasn’t about to be hushed. 

Tact was not in the child’s vocabulary. She marched over to Lýðrest. “Why can’t you sew? Didn’t your mama teach you how?”

Hereswið was trying to get out from under the huge rack she was sitting behind, working on a large section of quilt. “Æðelhild-”

“My mother fek-” Lýðrest stopped herself in her tracks. One of the first things Aelwydd and Hereswið attempted to convince Lýðrest of was that ladies did not swear or talk like the men in… well… whatever tavern her father ran. They were expected to comport themselves like… well… ladies. She inhaled, attempting to find calm where she felt none. “My mother is dead,” she stated matter-of-factly. “She died before I was three summers. I barely remember her.” The child drew up in shock. Before she could open her mouth again, Lýðrest continued. “My father ran a tavern and I helped him run it. I know nothing about sewing or hope chests or girly things, but I know how much food needs to be prepared a slow night or a busy one, I know how to sew up a man if he’s been injured and I know how many caskets of ale or oak whiskey is needed for a celebration. I know,” and with this she looked up to her mother-in-law, “where the best place in a cellar is to store mead, store ale, store beer and store wine. What temperature is best. I also know how to dodge grasping hands and how to lay out a man who refused to keep his hands to himself and tries to take liberties.” She then turned back to the little girl, who stood before her, mouth agape. “I didn’t know how to ride because I didn’t need to ride. I can lay a man out with my frying pan. I’ve been much too busy working to keep a roof over mine and my da’s head and food in our belly to worry about a hope chest, waiting for man to marry that honestly I never thought would come.”

Before she could continue, the child’s mother took her gently by the arm. “I think you are needed in the garden.” The little girl began to protest. “It’s not been weeded in a week. If the soil is dry, get a bucket and go to the river.”

“Sulis?” Aelwydd addressed her youngest, who was of the same age. “Go with her.”

With much groaning and bemoaning and grousing, the two young girls took off. Hereswið shook her head before returning to her seat. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what gets into her.”

“Nosy. Wants to know it all.” Lýðrest’s head was down, anger barely hidden.

“We’re simply curious,” Mayda, one of Gamhelm and Aelwydd’s daughters spoke up, barely civil. For some reason, she was borderline rude from the moment she met Lýðrest and Lýðrest decided she returned the dislike. “We’d like to know what it is Elfhelm sees in you. Don’t get your knickers in a wad.”

“Mayda?” Aelwydd never looked up from her hoop. “Go help your sister in the garden.” The girl snarled before tossing her hoop on the bench and stalking away.

Lýðrest watched her stomp off angrily, before returning to her own hoop. “Béma, whatever it is I’m making, it’s damned ugly!” 

One of the younger of Elfhelm’s sisters – Edyð - was sitting next to her. She was of an age with Lýðrest and decided she was going to like her new sister-in-law, regardless. It was not lost on Lýðrest the girl thought her brother hung the moon. “Doesn’t matter. It’s just a practice scrap to keep you busy and to teach you.” She shrugged with a good-natured grin. “You’re not supposed to make your wedding quilt, anyway. Your sisters and your friends are.”

“I have no sisters or friends. The only friends I had are back in Druncenig Ende.” 

It was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’m your sister,” Edyð spoke softly. “You’ve married my brother, so that makes you my sister.”

For the first time since arriving, Lýðrest smiled. “I guess it does then.”

“Tell you what!” Edyð motioned to Beornia to pass her her quilting hoop. “I’ll teach you to sew if you teach me to swear!” 

“Edyð!” 

“Me too!” Beornia chimed in. “I want to learn too!” She saw her mother raise her finger. “The garden is full of little girls. I am NOT going there!” She turned her attention back to Lýðrest before her mother could admonish her. “Do you know why Mayda is so nasty? She thinks she’s in love with Elfhelm.” She handed Edyð’s quilt portion to her.

“He never paid her any mind or attention,” Edyð cut in. “Treated her like a little sister and nothing more.”

“An annoying little sister.”

“Aye.”

“So!” Edyð seemed all excited about getting to know her new sister. “We’ve heard all sorts of whispers and silliness about how you and Elfhelm met and married! Tell us what really happened!” She leaned over and looked up at Lýðrest, batting her eyes. “Was he romantic?” 

“Did he sing to you?” Beornia snickered.

“Was it love at first sight?” 

“Did he sweep you off your feet?” 

Lýðrest was staring daggers at Aelwydd, who seemed completely nonplussed and totally oblivious of the fact her daughter and friend were waxing insipid and dreamy twaddle. She looked at Edyð. “No.” Over to Beornia. “No.” Back to Edyð. “No.” Back to Beornia. “No.”

Both girls were in shock. “So what we heard…”

Lýðrest was focusing on the mess she was making worse in her own hoop. “If you were told that I was hiding from goatish scut who planned to gang rape me and Elfhelm hid me in his room so it wouldn’t happen,” she stabbed the material viciously, “then you heard correctly. I was under the quilt in my clothes and shoes and he was on top in his cloak and we… spooned up together as the bed was small.” She jabbed the cloth again, pricking her finger. “OW!” She stuck the digit in her mouth. “Ewfhewm weft tha dor umbawbed an’ ma da cauh uf.” She pulled her finger from her mouth and inspected it as if it were an evil orc. “My da couldn’t wait to announce it to everyone. We didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. By the time the Marshal and my uncle got there, it was too late. Apparently, setting me aside will damage his career or some shite, so we’re stuck with each other.”

“Why would your da force a marriage on you, especially to a man you didn’t know?”

“Because,” Lýðrest returned to attacking the quilt square, “he wanted me out of Druncenig Ende bad enough and Elfhelm is a damn sight better than any man I’d find there!” 

“Oh.” Edyð’s response was very subdued. This was so unlike what she hoped for her beloved brother. “Well, surely you’ll fall in love with him, if you haven’t yet.” 

“I just don’t understand how anyone could accidentally get caught in someone’s cloak!” She stopped momentarily and glanced up at Aelwydd. “Lady Aelwydd-”

“Just Aelwydd.”

“You mentioned last night that you had been accidentally caught.”

“Aye.” She smiled. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. You’ve heard this before,” she nodded to her daughter.

“I love hearing it.”

“When I was seventeen summers, my da allowed me to go with him to a horse fair. The men go to trade horses, race and such. Show off mostly. The women go to priss and preen and maybe catch the eye of someone not on their farmstead.”

“So, you went to priss and preen.”

“Oh no.” Aelwydd had now laid down her sewing. “I had a dapple mare that was faster than the wind. Got her from a barely civilized horselord in the Wold. What was his name…” she wiggled her fingers in thought, before snapping them. “Finan! Finan of the Wold. In fact, Gamling’s first gelding was from their herd. Amazing horseman.” 

“Anyway, I wanted to race. I knew I could win every prize being offered, but my da refused. Said no man would be willing to court me if I beat his arse racing. Ticked me off, it did.” She nodded hard, Elfhelm’s mother now grinning like child with too much sweet cake. “We argued for some hours over it and rather loudly, I must admit. Eventually, I took off, just to prove I could raise up dust. I rode for a lot longer than I planned and realized I was out in the middle nowhere without my sword. I only had a paltry knife to eat with.” 

Aelwydd was now smiling in fond memory. “I started back, but my mare came up lame. She had a loose shoe. The sun was going down, I could hear wolves, other things…” her voice drifted off for a moment, “I was so scared… then out of nowhere, this red-headed Rider who had been staring at me from the moment we arrived, barrels out of nowhere on the biggest, meanest stallion I’ve ever seen. He jumped from his horse, checks my Lady’s hoof, tells me we’re not making it back to the gathering tonight, proceeds to make a big fire, pulls out tack… dried beef jerky and hands me a strip for dinner and then offers me a place in his bedroll!”

Hereswið clucked, never looking up. Obviously, she had heard this story before. “Awful.”

Aelwydd was just getting warmed up and she thrust an accusatory finger at Lýðrest. “It was! It was awful! How dare he offer to keep me warm and protected in the dark of the night! I refused!”

“Good girl,” Hereswið mumbled, concentrating very hard on her square. “Stupid move.”

“I sat, in the dark, on a rock that hurt my butt, freezing. After I suppose about an hour, he got up, said my teeth were chattering so, I would attract every warg in the vicinity. Next thing I knew, I was wrapped up tight and warm… and that man _was_ a heating bag the likes I’ve never seen.” She nodded hard. “Still is.”

Beornia leaned into Lýðrest and whispered. “This is my favorite part!” 

“Next thing I know, it’s morning, I’m still wrapped up tight in his cloak and he’s wrapped around me and my da and brothers are standing over us yelling they’ve caught me wrapped in that man’s cloak! Before I know it, my mother is planning a ceremony and that man is teaching me how to take better care of my horse. He gave me two moons.”

“That sounds familiar,” Lýðrest muttered. 

“It should! No doubt that man of yours talked to mine. Weirdest courtship I’ve ever encountered or heard of.” 

Lýðrest snorted. “Elfhelm taught me to ride and is teaching me to fight. Give me a frying pan any day.”

“Seeing how stiff you were, you still aren’t riding,” Aelwydd had returned her attention back to her sewing. “It took time, respect, and a few arguments, but I fell in love with that man. Best mistake I ever made, getting caught ‘accidentally’ in his cloak.” She dropped her sewing in her lap and tilted her head in thought. “I don’t think he’s ever realized that I know he loosened my mare’s shoe on purpose.” She made a moue with her mouth and shook her head. “No. I don’t think he knows.” The women started laughing.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/10-1_zpsfaa6993e.jpg.html)

Somewhere, in the midst of all it all, Lýðrest began to ponder what Elfhelm had told her about the difficulty in protecting her as long as their marriage wasn’t consummated. None of the women in the circle acted as if it was a chore. Maybe, she was being childish. Maybe, she was just being obstinate. Elfhelm hadn’t treated her unfairly or horribly. He dressed her the night before, braided her hair, put her to bed. He made her feel safe….

Why was she waiting?

~~~…~~~ 

As Elfhelm feared, his savings took a huge dent when his wife went shopping with his mother and the Marshal’s wife for necessities for their home. Living near a garrison and large settlement meant they didn’t have to wait for caravans or tinkers to come through town. Luckily, her wardrobe didn’t take a huge bite of his silver as he expected, but she did purchase leggings and tunics, as well as a sturdy pair of boots. It was the household goods that were staggering. Pots, pans, eating utensils. A privacy screen, a tub, a wardrobe. Linen to make… linens. He came home one evening to find people carrying things in. Just how big did she think their home was? By the time Aelwydd and Hereswið finished, the place was neat as a pin, set up like a dollhouse, a beautiful new quilt on the bed, which had been restuffed and now boasted fluffy goose-down pillows. Elfhelm wondered aloud what had happened to his nice bachelor pad.

“You have a wife now, Elfhelm,” his mother jibbed him. “If you could ever get down to the business of seducing her, you’ll have children and then we’ll either have to find a bigger place or add a loft to this one!” 

Their lives settled into a nice, comfortable routine for a few weeks. Lýðrest spent days following Aelwydd, dogging her footsteps in the garrison. Her mind was sharp when it came to money; able to add and subtract in her head at an amazing speed. Once, one of the young riders, not realizing she was married to a captain, made a lewd advance, only to find himself backed into a wall and rapidly cursed at by a tongue so raspy vile, it sounded like arrows being shot at a stone wall. Her finger was poking him in his sternum and by the time Gamhelm pulled him away from her and sent him to the stables to clean stalls, he swore never to make a pass at any strange woman again, save the whores at the Three Legged Rider. 

The bruise caused by her finger lasted a week! 

Two afternoons after their arrival, Elfhelm made her saddle her mare and they went riding. She still was sore and stiff and she cursed him for every jarring bounce and trot. 

He called her a whiney baby while rubbing a smelly oil on her legs and upper thighs. 

He kissed her every morning before he left for the day…

And rolled her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, every night, causing her toes to curl and her nether regions to feel… tingly. 

Three weeks after their arrival, he was sent out on patrol for two weeks.

It was the longest two weeks of Lýðrest’s life. 

_Tbc_


	11. 11 - Through the long night

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 11 

__

Through the long night 

“Do you have everything you need?” Lýðrest was by Elfhelm’s horse, pretending to hold the bridle while watching him tie his sleeping roll behind his saddle.

The young captain didn’t notice the look of worry on his young wife’s face. “Roll, cloak, a change of clothes, weapons, tack, three water skins. Yes. That’s everything.” He tightened the last cinch, holding everything in place before turning to realize that she looked worried.

_Scared to death._

“Is something wrong?”

“Fek no!” She tried to look affronted. “Why should something be wrong?” Quickly, she looked down, studying the dust about her feet. “How long will you be gone? Where are you going?”

Comprehending that she was quite frightened at being left alone, Elfhelm smiled before taking her into his arms. She did not resist. “I’ll be gone fourteen days, give or take. We are heading north on patrol-”

“Where Gauwyn was injured.”

“Aye,” he nodded quietly. “There as well. We’ll be careful. I doubt they’ll try to ambush us again any time soon. And if they try, we’ll be ready for them.” He didn’t tell her of the nasty trap that more than likely killed several of the Dunlendings over a moon past. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

“If you die, I don’t want to marry Gamling,” she muttered. Elfhelm laughed out loud at that, grateful he was the only one who heard her. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Elfhelm wondered if she were aware her arms were around him, holding him tight.

“Aelwydd says she’s trained you to be my clerk.” Lýðrest nodded. “So you will keep up with my paperwork, the payroll and such. You know how that works.” 

“Aye. They have to have their marks and the engraving on the back tells how much they get. If they try to chew me up for more or don’t have their mark, I’m to get Aelwydd or Gamhelm.”

“Very good. I have rotations already scheduled, so you simply have to post them. If I’m not back in time, simply repeat them. Make sure the barracks has food and there is plenty of feed for the horses for those under my command.” 

“Just like the tavern.”

“Just like the tavern,” he agreed. Aelwydd said she had a quick eye and mind. “Ask Aelwydd or Gamhelm if you have any questions. Gauwyn is starting to work his sword arm and ride again. You are to work with him. That includes riding.” She snarled at that. Elfhelm tucked his finger under her chin and lifted it. “Do it. Don’t make me spank you when I get home. In the evening, you’re to go to the tavern my mother runs and help her. The work should be familiar to you and she could use the help, I’m sure. It will keep you busy and I’ll be home before you know it.” He stared at her for what seemed forever, watching her eyes mist up. After a moment, he leaned down, kissing her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth and his hand holding the back of her head. She allowed him to plunder her, before pulling back when the company began to wolf whistle and demand they just get a room. He broke off the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. “Miss me?”

“Like a bleeding flea – infested quilt,” she muttered. “At least I’ll get some sleep without you snoring like a damned thunderstorm in my ear.”

“Hæfern should be back from Aldburg next week. The two of you can sit around and swear to your heart’s content. If I see your da, I’ll tell him you’re well.” She nodded morosely. He kissed her again.

“Come on, can we just leave?” Cælin was up in years, working on his third wife and romance was totally lost on the man. Elfhelm openly wondered why he didn’t retire. “Because I love to bed my wife. I don’t love her cooking,” was the oft-repeated excuse. He said that about all three of his wives. 

Reluctantly, Elfhelm turned her loose and mounted up. He looked back as the company turned the corner, pleased she still stood where he left her, watching. Maybe this separation would do the trick and he would get lucky before the second moon was up.

Neither one of them were aware of the jealous, angry eyes that watched the tender exchange or the departure.

~~~…~~~

True to Elfhelm’s promise, Aelwydd and Hereswið kept Lýðrest extremely busy. She rose early and fell into bed every night, exhausted, her arms wrapped around Elfhelm’s pillow. The payroll came in and dividing and distributing it was a taxing, headache-inducing process. Several of the younger Riders did attempt to garner extra coppers from the young woman, but soon learned that she was smarter than they were. Not only that, she was evidently allowed and capable of setting their garrison responsibilities during her husband’s absence and the attempt to collect additional pay only acquired them unsavory chores, such as cleaning the stalls like stable boys. One particularly obstinate fellow found himself cleaning the Marshal’s pigpen, much to the amusement of his fellow Riders.

Most afternoons found her in the yards with the young women, practicing, training their own sword skills. She openly disliked the training and was rather vocal to Gauwyn when the two of them went riding afterwards. 

“I don’t understand,” she griped the afternoon after Elfhelm left for patrol. “I don’t see any reason why I need to learn to fekking fight with a sword, a knife, or a big stick!” 

Gauwyn smiled. He ignored her earthy language, something his mother despaired of as her daughters were enamored of Lýðrest’s command of such filth. “Imagine you could have run Hucohun through.” 

“That would work.”

“Aye.” He stretched, painfully, his side giving him fits.

They tended to stay close to the garrison; Gauwyn working newly knitted muscle. It was whispered he would limp for the rest of his life. Lýðrest felt badly about that, but she had done the best she could. He didn’t seem to hold it against her.

When Hæfern returned, he took over Lýðrest’s sword training, taking it very serious indeed.

“Don’t know why I didn’t teach you this, myself,” he muttered thickly, backing her into a corner. When she reached it, she lashed out, backing him back into the middle of the yard. Every other thrust was punctuated with a curse that made most of the yard’s occupants’ hair stand up on the back of their necks. One particular whack would definitely leave a bruise on the older Rider’s arm for sure. 

“Aye,” she responded, concentrating on his sword arm. “I could have killed Hucohun and not been put this stupid arrangement!” 

Hæfern dropped to his knee, point of the practice sword to the ground and effectively pausing the fight. “Do you really think that?” his head cocked to the side.

“Of course, I do!”

“Think, girl. You know better.”

Truthfully, she did. Even had she been able to defend herself, that night was three against one, wretched odds. 

“Do you like Elfhelm so little? Way I hear it, the two of you are rather sweet on each other. The garrison is still twittering like teenaged girls over your goodbye kiss.”

Lýðrest colored at that. She threw her own practice sword down on the ground and stormed away. It was not lost on her that she did care deeply for the man she was married to, enjoyed him, his company and she was missing him horribly. She missed his morning and evening kisses, his warmth in the bed and yes, even his snoring.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/11-1_zps4ea0f83f.jpg.html)

She went home, washing up and changing clothes and threw herself into her work at the tavern that night. She worried her mother-in-law, her new family, but mostly Aelwydd, who knew deep inside what was bothering the young woman. But she also understood the stubborn set of her shoulders and backbone. 

Time would tell. Hopefully, she would miss him enough to end this foolish prick-teasing game the two of them were playing.

Elfhelm and his company returned on time, fourteen days later. Lýðrest was in his clerk’s office, preparing to repeat the rotation, so deep into the fortress, she didn’t hear their return. She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the doorframe.

Elfhelm stood against the door, looking tired worn. He was filthy. “Could you lay that aside?” His voice was exhausted, thick, certainly not the robust, vibrancy she was used to.

“Elfhelm?”

“I need your help. It’s not bad, but…” His mouth went white. “I don’t want my mother or my sisters fussing over me, do you understand?” 

“Sure.” She got up slowly and took him by the arm. Together, the two sauntered, Lýðrest chattering unusually so about her ‘adventures’ while he was gone. The captain managed to smile, look as if he were hanging on her every word. No sooner than they got into their cottage, he sank down on the nearest bench by the fireplace. Lýðrest shut the door, grabbed her healer’s kit and sank down in front of him. She began to unbuckle and pull his leather armor from him, slinging it out of the way to the floor. “Where?”

“Arm. Hip. It’s not bad, not really…just hurts like…” Lýðrest was now pulling his chain maille over his head. 

“A fekking warg’s arse.”

“I knew,” he whispered, “you’d have something appropriate to say.” His smile, while thin, was genuine. “I’m just tired and need to sleep.”

As his clothing came off, Lýðrest hissed. “Not bad, my arse. Had you cleaned them, it wouldn’t be bad!” Before long, he was sitting in his small clothes and she was stoking the fire, every large kettle that would hang on a hook, filled with water and over the fire, waiting to boil.

“Béma! Must it be so hot in here?”

Lýðrest was busy nosing over healing salves and a pain-reliever tea. “You can sweat this out while I fix your bath.” She handed him a mug of willowbark-laced tea. “When did this happen?”

He took a deep draw of the hot brew. “Bleh!” he grimaced. “Can’t you put this stuff in caffe?” 

Lýðrest was putting another bucket of hot water into the tub. “I make shitty caffe, just so you know. When did it happen? How long have you been riding all over the fekking Riddermark like this?”

Elfhelm shrugged. “Five… six days.” He buried his nose in the mug to hide his smile as his wife swore the dirt from the floor. Home. This was home.

It was quiet for some time as the water level rose in the tub and Lýðrest fussed and worried over each cut and laceration. There was a particularly deep cut on his shoulder that needed several stitches. Elfhelm sat very still while she sewed him up, taking care to make sure the sutures were tight and even. _‘Funny’_ , she thought to herself, _‘I can sew flesh evenly, but give me a needle and thread and a quilting hoop, and I’m a lopsided loony!’_ Finally, she poured the last pot of boiling water in the tub and nodded for him to get in. She did not turn away as he stepped out of his last bits of clothing and climbed into the tub. He hissed at the heat but sank gratefully into the water nonetheless. Lýðrest kicked his clothing into the corner and pulled the little bench he was sitting on behind him and began to bathe the parts of him she could see.

In the past weeks, since they arrived in Cantwaraburg, Lýðrest had become more and more interested in her husband’s body. Unbeknownst to her, he was aware of her quiet, under the covers scrutiny and he reveled in showing off in typical male fashion. Like most Rohirrim, he was tall, but rather than have a lean physique, he was thick, muscular. Broad across the shoulder with a powerful chest that, as much as Lýðrest hated to admit, she was learning to love as it held her safe, snug, and secure at night. Everything about him was thick, hinted at power.

Including… that.

As she remembered, even limp, his was not the shriveled up, dangling thing most injured men had between their legs. His looked… heavy and Cynni and Belle told her it would grow hard and larger than when it was in its resting state. To think of his… larger? Bigger? Standing like a staff…

“What are you pondering on that has you so quiet?” Elfhelm turned around, leaning on the back of the tub. He immediately saw his wife redden furiously and realizing she was having earthy thoughts, smiled smugly. “Do not lie or make up something outrageous.”

“What makes you think I’d lie?” 

The back of a damp finger reached out and caressed her jawline. “You’re blushing.” 

It crossed her mind to lie anyway, but truth was she was curious and if she couldn’t ask her own husband, who could she ask? Certainly not her mother-in-law… maybe Aelwydd… but…

“I can’t figure out how you’re going to fit!” she blurted. “Belle said a man gets… bigger and you’re bigger already and I just don’t know how you’re going to … how we’re going to...” She realized her husband was grinning about as hard as she had ever seen the man smile. Damn, if he wasn’t chuckling. She ducked her head, petulantly. “You maggot-pie. You’re laughing at me.”

Now he was laughing. “No, I’m not laughing _at_ you. I’m laughing _with_ you.” His hand continued to caress her face. “How much did Belle tell you?”

Stammering, Lýðrest told him all four sentences of information she received. “That it will fit, I’ll like it, eventually, and the longer you go without, you’ll get… blue balls and it will hurt you.”

Elfhelm’s smile fell just a bit. “That’s all?” Lýðrest nodded. “Do you want me to have my mother or Aelwydd talk to you?”

“NO!” she snapped. “It’s damned embarrassing for me to be this old and ignorant-”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “I prefer you ignorant. Not that that’s a bad thing, simply I’ll get to teach you everything.” He turned back around, presenting her with his back. “If you’ll finish my back and help me wash my hair, you won’t have to look at me when I embarrass you, because I probably will.” Elfhelm heard the bench scrape across the floor as Lýðrest pulled closer. Her hands went to his back, a bar of soap in her hands. The scent of sandalwood filled the air. “It will get bigger, but it will fit fine.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get wet.” Her hands stopped. “A woman’s body is made to react to a man’s to help things along. I will teach you to touch me in ways that will make me rather large and yes, very hard. You have parts of your body that will make you very wet, which will make it easier.”

Suddenly, Lýðrest grabbed his chin, turning his face none to gently, so he was looking straight at her. “And what if I don’t get wet enough?” 

Elfhelm’s face split into a slow-growing grin. He kissed her, much like he had when he left two weeks before. His look was rather rakish. “Then I will crawl between your legs and lick every nook and cranny and your sweet clit until you are gushing and make a wet spot in the bed. And just when you cannot take anymore, I will spread you wide and I will fit.” His forehead was pressed against hers. “And you will love it.”

Lýðrest pulled back, eyes wide, full of fear, but also full of need. Elfhelm ducked his head beneath the cooling water and held out his hand for the soap. Quickly he washed that mass, before motioning for the bucket to rinse. When he finished, he stood up, water dripping from everywhere on his body. As she was still sitting, Lýðrest looked up taking all of him in, every bit, every inch.

“Tell me, léoflic,” Elfhelm’s voice was a husky whisper. “Will you allow me to gaze at your naked beauty so thoroughly?” He smiled ruefully when she blushed and looked away. Snorting gently, he held his hand out. “Take my hand and stand up.” When she acquiesced, he pulled her up and still clasping it, laid her hand on his uninjured shoulder. With his other hand, he pulled her close, that possessive hand on the curve of her hip, until she was tucked into his body, the damp that adhered to his skin, now clinging to her dress. “You realize,” he whispered in her ear, “the first full moon passed while I was gone?” He now laid her hand flat on his shoulder, shuddering as she began to stroke, caress the muscled skin, mindlessly mimicking his own touch along her jaw line. He felt her nod. “Why do you wait?” His murmur was a low rumble in her ear. “Surely you know I would be gentle. I want to pleasure you.”

“I’m scared.” It was a lamb’s bleat, an endearing softness he did not expect from her. 

“Well, we should address that fear, but not this evening.” He kissed her when she looked up. “I’m in no shape to woo such a reluctant, beautiful woman. And I’m hungry too and as much as I have missed you in my arms, your cooking,” he finished ruefully, “has much to be desired.” This caused Lýðrest to break out in a rather joyous laugh, something not seen or heard often. “But,” Elfhelm lifted a single finger and tapped her on the nose, “I will have the next few days off, meaning you do as well. I would like to show you some of the surrounding countryside, show you where the good fishing spots are, as well as a field that is normally abundant with rabbit and squirrel.”

“But I can’t cook it, remember?” She was still smiling.

“Well, I guess,” he lectured to the rafters while he pulled her in close, “I’ll have to teach you to do that as well. Why,” he chided humorously, “did I marry you again? OH!” He continued, lest she interrupt him, “That’s right! Your father’s vast holdings and your jewels!” He spun her around, making her squeal. “And your sweet singing voice!” They were both laughing. Finally, he kissed her, a lingering kiss that promised much. “Help me get dressed and we’ll go to the tavern for whatever has been cooked up. But be prepared to spend the next few days with me where hopefully, we’ll lay some of your fears to rest and maybe, I can teach you to fry up a trout!” 

Fifteen minutes later, the two sat in a dark, back corner of Elfhelm’s mother’s tavern, sharing a tankard of mead and looking forward to a shared dinner of pork and honeyed vegetables. No one noticed or mentioned, save Lýðrest, the obvious slow movements of the captain, or the grim, white line his mouth made when he moved the wrong way.

They were unaware, as they left the tavern in the early evening, as they slowly strolled hand in hand down the path back to their little cottage, of a pair of angry, jealous eyes that followed them. 

_tbc_


	12. 12. I go to Extremes

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 12 

__

I go to extremes 

Her rabbit snare knots were atrocious. The fish ran from her line. The only fish she caught were small and puny and had to be thrown back.

But she was wicked with a slingshot. 

“Can you do that to a fish?”

_!ping!_ The fish floated to the top, stunned, waiting for her to pick it up.

“Damn!”

Cooking was still a travesty. It was decided if she could catch enough, he would roast it. Or fry it. Or bake it even.

All right, he wouldn’t bake it. They didn’t have an oven yet, but once they did build one behind their home… watch out!

They laughed. They laughed a lot, took joy in each other’s company, discovering what the other found funny. But most of the time, they spent rolled up in Elfhelm’s cloak, kissing. The first time his hand brushed against her breast, she jumped, attempted to pull back.

“Don’t. Relax.”

“But-”

“I am addressing your fear. Relax.” Gently, his palm cupped the side of her breast, the thumb grazing her through her tunic. He kissed her again, giving her other things to worry with, like his tongue, which tended to find its way in her mouth and ear and behind her ear and her neck…

“This is making you tingle.”

Lýðrest’s own mouth was on his Adam’s apple, attempting to do to him what he was doing to her. “What makes you think that?”

Her head was cupped in his hand as his own mouth slid to that sensitive spot along her jaw line. “Your nipple is hard.” His thumb caressed the ever-enlargening nub. 

“Will yours get hard?” She was breathing heavy and the heat in her gaze was just what he had been hoping for. Quickly, they jumped on their horses, headed to their cottage. When they reached it, Lýðrest hurried inside while Elfhelm took both horses to the stable. It was the fastest he had ever unsaddled and fed two equines in his entire life. 

Unfortunately, he ran home, to hear his wife crying behind the privacy screen. 

Her menstrual cycle had started.

~~~…~~~

Elfhelm returned to his duties after those few precious days and that perfect moment lost. He found his office well tended and Lýðrest’s clerking of his duties to be more than adequate.

“She’ll make an excellent clerk,” Gamhelm told him. “Already, your men know not to attempt to pull the wool over her eyes.” 

“She needs more time in the saddle,” Hæfern wasn’t ready to heap accolades yet. “However, her sword skills are improving. She left an impressive bruise on my arm last week.”

Elfhelm narrowed his eyes. “Exactly _what_ are you grooming her for?” 

Hæfern looked at Gamhelm before winking at the young captain. “Why for her to be your second in command, of course.”

Which left Elfhelm with the strangest vision of his wife in armor.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/12_zps8e3714ce.jpg.html)

~~~…~~~

“Sir, can I have a word with you, please?”

Elfhelm looked up from Heaðuwylm’s hoof. The equine had been favoring it during exercises today and if there was a problem, he wanted it fixed now. There was nothing more terrifying than having one’s mount come up lame during patrol. “Penda? What is it?”

The Rider looked sheepish and began to fidget. “It’s about… I hate to ask…”

“Well, do it or don’t.”

He was now scratching behind his ear. “My wife, sir. Aelbfled is past her due date and I’m scheduled to go on patrol tomorrow. I wouldn’t ask, but…” his voice trailed off and his face beet red.

It was their first child and a pregnancy that had been difficult for the young woman. “You’re wanting to rotate out?” _Aha. There was the problem!_ A small pebble had worked its way underneath the shoe. Taking his smallest pick from his belt, Elfhelm began to gently work the pebble forward and out from under the shoe.

“Or swap.”

Finally freeing the small rock, Elfhelm put the hoof down gently. “There, boy. That should feel much better!” He stood up and looked at the young, nervous Rider. _Would he be this antsy when Lýðrest finally conceived?_ “Have you talked to someone yet?” 

“Hlothere is still working his injury, as is Oeric. I really don’t know anyone else.”

Elfhelm grimaced. The young Rider was a new transfer, his wife barely making the move in her advanced stage of pregnancy. At least they hadn’t moved far. “Tell you what; I’ll ask around for you. Some of the older Riders will understand. How late is it?” 

“Close to dinner, sir. I think you’ll find most at home or at the Three Legged Rider.” 

Elfhelm thought for a moment. “Go home to your wife and I don’t want to see you until you have a Horse Lord or a Shield Maiden. I’ll go to the tavern and find someone to relieve you this patrol. If no one is willing, I’ll take your turn.”

The young man’s blush returned. “Thank you, sir.” He dipped his head before running out of the barn. 

The Three Legged Rider was not very full, which didn’t surprised Elfhelm as tomorrow was payday and at this moment _his_ wife was more than likely fighting with paperwork to prepare it. Elfhelm decided that when he finished here, he would go to the garrison and help her. Perhaps her woman’s time would be over and they could complete what they started six days before.

~~~…~~~

Truth was, in fact, Lýðrest _was_ fussing with the payroll for Elfhelm’s battalion. She had counted several times and there was not enough – the pay casket was short about fifty silver pieces – several men’s pay. After going through it, the lists, the pay scale, her headache was crawling up her temples. She typically kept a headache during her menstrual cycle, but it had ended that morning and she was looking forward to a bath and some cuddling time with Elfhelm. Maybe more. Those few days off with her husband had truly piqued her curiosity and the time he was gone, along with the fact he came home injured, she was coming to the realization that she cared for him and cared for him more than she wanted to admit she did.

But this task was vexing her and sorely. She could forget about getting home before him, seeing if the snares he set out had caught anything and then taking a bath. At this rate, she might get home after dark! Slamming the book shut, she took the money and put it back in the strong box, locking it with the big lock. Tucking the key into her bodice, she stuck her head out the doorway. Down the hall, were two guards. “Have you seen the Marshal?”

Both shook their heads negatively. “How about his wife?” Again, the two shook their heads. “Ah, you’re as fekking useless as tits on a bull,” she murmured angrily. She turned around, shutting the door and finding the hidden trap door beneath the table and rug, she set the strong box into the hole made for it and closed it up, making sure to cover it securely. She left the room, in search of Elfhelm, Gamhelm or Aelwydd.

~~~…~~~

Finding someone to take Penda’s place was difficult. None of the Riders at the tavern that afternoon had been in his position, so for the most part, they couldn’t commiserate. Elfhelm shook his head in disgust. He hated to order a man to change out. Gamhelm often talked about missing his third child’s birth and barely making it home in time for the fifth! At one point, he thought to ride out himself, despite the fact he still had stitches.

“Elfhelm!”

~~~…~~~

Lýðrest searched the garrison. No Elfhelm. Coming into the courtyard, the bailey, where it was busy, she still could find no Elfhelm, no Gamhelm, and no Aelwydd. Leaving the walled structure, she set out for her home. Maybe he was there. If not, she would head to Gamhelm and Aelwydd’s large home. Surely someone-

“You look lost.” The voice came up from behind her and Lýðrest spun around. Mayda typically avoided Lýðrest and that was fine with Lýðrest. There was no love lost between the two. “Looking for someone?” For some reason, the look and tone was snide.

“Aye. I’m having a problem with the payroll tomorrow. The funds are short and I can’t find my husband,” she stressed the last two words and she knew it would get a rise from the girl and from the sudden sniff and reset shoulders, it got the desired affect, “or your parents.” 

“Well,” Mayda smiled insincerely, “I saw Elfhelm leave the barns a short while back and head towards the Three Legged Rider.”

“The Three Legged Rider?” The tavern name was familiar but the best she got from Elfhelm or anyone she asked, was that it was the preferred haunt of the single riders. Married ones went only to find someone or perhaps on rare occasion, play a round of cards. For some reason, Aelwydd and Hereswið wouldn’t tell her much more and considering Gauwyn’s blush when she asked him, she figured other things went on there as well. “Are your parents around?” 

Mayda appeared to think; truthfully, Lýðrest didn’t think she had a lot of deep thoughts so it should be fairly easy to stroll through the inventory in her brain. “Nope! Don’t know where they are.” She took Lýðrest’s arm and turned her around. “The Three Legged Rider is on the other side of the garrison, past the barns and the archery field and down the lane. Can’t miss it!” And with that, the girl left her there, standing in the dust, walking with a swagger that made Lýðrest want to just bean her.

“Well, maybe I’ll meet him on his way back.”

~~~…~~~

His brother-in-law Mathye came into the tavern. “I hear you need someone to take Penda’s place on patrol?”

Elfhelm’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Aye, that I do. His wife is overdue with their first child and he’s worried.” Elfhelm’s hands dragged through his rust-colored locks. “None of these brainless prats seem to understand that-”

“I’M NOT BRAINLESS!” a Rider’s voice piped up from the back of somewhere. “I JUST DON’T WANT TO GO ON PATROL AGAIN!” 

“Give them a few years, when they are married and have babies coming,” Mathye smiled. “Osðryd is at my sister’s in Aldburg. She’s having her third child, but my mother has been ill. I’m at loose ends. I’ll be more than happy to take his place.”

Elfhelm sagged in relief. “Thank you. I was afraid I would end up going and I just got back!” He leaned over and whispered into Mathye’s ear. “Lýðrest is finally settling in and I don’t want to leave her again until I have to!” He started to step around his brother-in-law. “I’ll just-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Aedilthryd appeared literally in his face. She threw her arms around his neck. “Sweetheart! I’ve not seen you in ages! Why don’t we go upstairs and catch up?” 

Elfhelm pulled back. She had been drinking and drinking heavily. While he was interested in fleshly pursuits, he wasn’t interested in hers and even if he had been single, her breath smelled as if she had been gargling in whiskey. He tried to pull her arms from around his neck. “That’s really nice of you, but I think you would be better off with one of the single riders here. I have a wife at home now.”

Aedilthryd slammed her fists to her hips. “Aye, a wife who can’t cook and rumor has it is still a virgin!” The room came to a hush. “If she won’t let you, I will!” 

Elfhelm’s eyes narrowed, a rare anger flooding his body. “Who told you that?” 

The whore didn’t realize that she was treading on very thin ice, nor did she see the proprietress of the brothel and tavern, making her way from behind the bar. Aedilthryd saucily began to untie her blouse, showing off her wares. “Does it matter? I know you,” she said huskily, “and I’ve missed you in my AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!!” The prostitute was suddenly yanked backwards, her hands going to her head, her hair, where Lýðrest had her fist firmly planted in it. She turned her around, slapping her hard.

“CUNT! That’s my husband! Give your fekking, diseased pussy to someone who’s desperate enough to pay for it!” 

The other whores in the tavern were backing up, the men circling, sensing a catfight of epic proportions. Elfhelm was immediately behind Lýðrest, putting his arms around her waist. He nodded to Mathye. “Lýðrest, turn her loose. No harm done. I was on my way home.”

“Turn loose of my hair, bicce!” Aedilthryd now had her hands over Lýðrest’s, trying to break free of Lýðrest’s talons. 

If anything, Lýðrest began to yank harder. Mathye now had a hold of the whore. “Come on, Lýðrest. Please release her.”

Lýðrest managed to wiggle free of her husband’s grasp. With a mighty swing and still having the whore’s hair in a firm grip, she curled up her fist and punched the woman in the jaw. “You reeky, puny-”

“PUNY? PUNY? Who are you calling puny?” Aedilthryd grabbed Mathye’s forearms, which had her in a tight grip. “Turn me loose! I’ll show you puny!”

“-Harpy!” Lýðrest pulled back to swing again, only to find herself back in her husband’s fierce embrace and being pulled out of the fight. “STRUMPET!” She began to smack and pummel at Elfhelm’s hands and arms. “ TURN ME LOOSE, YOU MOLDWARP!”

“Not hardly,” Elfhelm mumbled, grunting when she kicked him. He started backing up, trying to put distance between his wife and the prostitute. 

Aedilthryd managed to escape Mathye’s strong hold and came at both Elfhelm and Lýðrest. With a growl, she doubled up both fists. “You bitch! I’ll teach you-”

Whatever it was she planned on teaching Lýðrest didn’t even reach her lips as Lýðrest reared up and stuck out with her feet, catching the girl in the stomach, causing her to double over and fly back into the floor. As her legs swung back, she kicked her husband in the shins, and with a startled grunt, he dropped her. The moment her feet hit the floor, she tackled the woman. The two began to roll in the floor, slinging, slapping, Lýðrest curses flying.

“…pribbling…spleeny…”

Mathye and Elfhelm were circling around the battling women, uncaring that the Riders behind them were not so quietly taking bets.

“Well, don’t just stand there like an apeling,” Elfhelm roared over the screaming din. “Grab Aedilthryd when they come back around and I’ll grab Lýðrest!” 

“You’re a brave man, Captain!” Egbert lifted his mug. “You’ve got a firebrand, alright! A silver piece on the captain’s wife!” His friends joined in the laughter, the two women still battling it out.

Mathye snarled and reaching down, put his arms around the whore, pulling her out from under Lýðrest. At the same time, Elfhelm managed to get Lýðrest under the arms and pulled her back, doing his best to ignore that she was now swinging at him.

“STOP!” 

“CUNTWIPE!”

“BITCH!”

“WHORE!”

“STOP!”

“I KNOW! COLD FISH LIKE YOU KEEP ME IN BUSINESS!”

The screaming, name-calling continued, no one heeding the unfamiliar, woman’s voice. 

_“OFLINNAN! IC SEGEN OFLINNAN ÞYS HANDHWÍL!!!”_

The noise, the cat-calling, the yelling and screaming came to a complete halt, all of the combatants looking at the lone, strangely-familiar woman standing in the middle of the tavern. “Never in my life of running this place, have I have heard such name-calling!” Ah, she was furious. “I have never had as much as a fight in my establishment and I’ll not start now! You!” She pointed at Aedilthryd, “Go to your room!”

“But-”

“YOU!” She pointed at Mathye, who still held the woman to his chest. “Take her!” 

“Ma’am, I don’t frequent this place, so I don’t know where her room is.” He blushed. “I love my wife.”

“Upstairs, to the right, at the end of the hall, on the left!” She now vented her ire on the girl. “Do not come out until the morning when you’ve sobered up!”

“I’m not a child!”

“But if you want a job come sunrise, you’ll do as I say! Married Riders are off-limits, unless they approach you and you know that! That rule is in place to prevent this!” Lýðrest started to yell again, but the brothel owner yelled over her. “And the captain didn’t approach you and hasn’t since he returned with a wife!” It fell quiet while the Rider rather gently hauled the woman up the stairs. Earcongotæ exhaled, visibly upset at the brawl that had taken place in her establishment. She turned to face Elfhelm and Lýðrest. “Girl, I understand totally why you’re upset-”

“You understand? You understand?” Lýðrest’s voice began to rise and she began to thrash in her husband’s arms. “Mayda tells me my husband is here and I walk in to see some strumpet all over him like mud and you understand?” This started a litany of cursing the likes that even most Riders had never heard. No one paid attention to Gamling in the corner, brow knit in quiet fury at the mention of his sister’s name. Earcongotæ shook her head in disgust and trudged up the stairs.

Once Earcongotæ left, Elfhelm turned the firewarg in his arms loose, setting her on the floor. “Why did you come looking for me?” Lýðrest spun on him, her finger in the air.

“The payroll is short!” she hissed between her teeth, praying no one heard. “I’ve counted it out until I’m cross-eyed and it’s still fifty silver pieces short. I’ve locked it in the casket and put it in the floor stronghold,-”

“Why didn’t you tell Gamhelm or Aelwydd?”

“I COULDN’T FIND THEM!” Her fists were clenched, white-knuckled. “And I come in here to find you ensconced in that-”

“I wasn’t ensconced anywhere!” Elfhelm’s own temper had now been lit. Under normal circumstances, it was typically fast and quickly smothered, but under certain conditions, his rare fury was akin to beserking, an explosive thing and one he fought to keep controlled. “I was heading home-”

A howl of female fury rose and before anyone could stop it, both Elfhelm and Lýðrest were screaming at each other, fingers in the other’s sternum…

The language was singeing ears. Some Riders were now quietly paying their tabs and sneaking out the door, while others simply motioned to have theirs put on the their tab. It was one thing to watch a catfight between two women – that was fun to watch. But an argument between a husband and wife? That could spin out of control and a Rider could lose his commission really fast if he struck his wife or any woman. Soon, all that was left were Elfhelm, Lýðrest, Gamling, and the bartender, who just watched his night’s wages slip out the door.

“I have a right to be furious!” 

“I have the right to at least be able to explain before you start howling like a scréawa!”

“Harpy? A Harpy? I think I have the right to be upset!” 

“Actually,” Elfhelm’s voice lowered to a dangerous whisper, “no you don’t. I didn’t do anything and come to think of it, you’ve given me no reason to not do anything. And even if I had, you don’t have the right to attack someone who was willing to give me something you hold from me! Go home!” And with that, he stormed from the establishment.

Leaving Lýðrest standing in shock in the middle of the now seemingly empty room. The minute the door slammed, all the fury, the energy, the heat fled from her. Tears welled up, tears she fought to not shed. She was aware of a tall shadow next to her.

“Here.” A mug of ale materialized in front of her. “Drink it. But not too fast.” With shaking hands, Lýðrest took the offering and put it to her lips. One gulp later, the hand snatched the mug away from her mouth. “I said not too fast.” Finally she pulled the mug away and looked up at her benefactor.

“Gamling?”

He rolled his eyes. “Aye.” He nodded at the door. “I know Elfhelm. He’ll calm down in an hour or two and come back and the two of you can make up. Set this behind you.”

“You heard him,” she whispered. “He told me to go home.”

“Aye, home. Your cottage. Not Druncenig Ende.” The man was wearing a faint smile. “He won’t send you back.”

“Gamling,” Earcongotæ had been upstairs, fussing at her employee and reaffirming ground rules of the establishment. She would follow them or she would find work elsewhere. “Why don’t you go to Elfhelm and try to calm him down. I’ll take his wife home. Mathye has gone to get Hereswið.” She smiled at the still shaken woman. “We’ll fix you a bath and see what can be done to heal the damage done by that little witch upstairs.”

Gamling nodded. “I’ll run by my parents. I understand there is a problem with the men’s pay?” Lýðrest nodded her head morosely. “I need to speak with da about that and I’ll send my mother. Then I’ll go to Elfhelm.” Unexpectedly, a huge hand caressed her shoulder. “It will be okay. Honesty, I’ve seen worse. My parents have gotten into a few scream the barn rafter down matches.” 

“A few?” Lýðrest choked.

Gamling nodded before continuing. “Aye. A few. They’re disgustingly coo-ey afterwards.” With that, he headed out the door. 

The mug Gamling had handed her was now empty and Earcongotæ took it from her, setting it on the nearest table. “Follow me. I know a quiet, back way close to your home and fewer people will see you. We’ll get you some tea and a bath. Come.” 

With that, Lýðrest allowed the older woman to lead her into the back kitchen and out the back door. 

 

_Tbc_

OFLINNAN! IC SEGEN OFLINNAN ÞYS HANDHWÍL!   
Stop! I said stop this instant! 

Scréawa – Shrew, a harpy.


	13. 13 - If I only had the words to tell you

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 13 

__

If I only had the words (to tell you) 

Gamling’s family home at dinnertime was typically noisy, but controlled chaos. With four sisters, who chattered at a non-stop speed, he was grateful for the transfer his da whispered to him in confidence that afternoon. He wasn’t supposed to know about it until the morrow, when he got paid, but he knew if his mother didn’t know yet, she would be the time she and da retired for the night. He would miss his family; he would not miss the noise.

“Da.” He nodded at his mother so she would know this also concerned her. With hooded eyes, he swept the room; Beornia and Mayda were both bringing food to the table, Orva and Sulis were setting it. “There’s a problem with Elfhelm’s payroll.”

Gamhelm’s brow knitted as he made his way to his only son’s side. “So why didn’t he or Lýðrest come to me? What’s wrong?” Aelwydd joined her husband in front of her son.

“It’s about fifty silver short. Elfhelm was dealing with another problem with one of his men wanting to stay home with his over-due wife and Lýðrest was separating it out.” At this he raised his voice. “She came to look for you, however _someone_ ,” his voice stressed the last word, “told her she could find Elfhelm at the Three Legged Rider!” 

Aelwydd gasped. “Oh no…”

Mayda heard the last part, terrified eyes jerking up to her brother’s and seeing the knowing accusation in them. Gently, she put the serving bowl down and turned to tiptoe out the door. 

“Who? Who would do that?”

Gamling’s eyes narrowed. “Maaaaydaaa?”

Gamhelm didn’t raise his voice, much less turn to look at his daughter. “Mayda? Stay put.”

Her head dropped. “Yes sir.” 

Aelwydd was focused on her son. “What happened?” 

“A catfight of epic proportions. One of the wenches probably is missing a few fistfuls of hair, Elfhelm is riding off a fury, and I don’t blame him as he was there talking to riders and had nothing to do with the whore that was throwing herself at him. I’d like to go to him.”

“Lýðrest?” 

“Earcongotæ has taken her home the back way. I… bought her ale. She… Elfhelm told her to go home. She thought he meant to return to Druncenig Ende.”

“Well, she should go back to where she came from!” Mayda drew up. “She doesn’t belong here and had no business trapping Elfhelm into a marriage he didn’t want!” Suddenly, she was aware of every eye in the house on her and the scrutiny was not friendly.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/13_zps802e5d7b.jpg.html)

“You did what?” Beornia was standing behind her with a platter of roast duck. She slammed it on the table. “How could you?” Her anger and bearing would rival her mother’s within a few years. “I know you like Elfhelm, but he doesn’t return your feelings! He never did! You are just an annoying little sister to him!” 

“And to me,” Gamling muttered.

“Gamling!” his mother hissed.

A heavy hand lowered itself on his shoulder. “Go find Elfhelm. Calm him down. Bring him home. Aelwydd?”

“I’m going to Lýðrest.” She wiped her hands on her apron and began to untie the back. “This has gone on long enough. Gamhelm? Deal with your daughter. Those two have enough to work through without her meddling!” Quickly, the woman left the household, leaving her husband and children standing quietly.

“Gamling, I am going to take Mayda to the barn. The rest of you may have dinner now.” Unlike most of the Riders, the Marshal’s household did have its own barn to accommodate their large herd of equines. “She and I need to have a talk. After that, I will need to deal with the pay roll problem. Mayda?” 

Mayda’s head dropped. She adored her father but when it came to discipline, he showed no favorites. She knew she probably wouldn’t be able to sit her horse for a week but that wouldn’t be as painful than having to apologize to that tavern bicce and Elfhelm.

“Mayda? I am waiting.”

“Yes sir.”

~~~…~~~

Elfhelm had ridden east and he didn’t know how long he had ridden. After a while, he didn’t know why he even left. He wasn’t mad at Lýðrest, truthfully. If anything, he was mad at the whore for not taking no for an answer. He had been fond of her before…

No. He had never been fond of her. She was good at what she did and she loved his money, just like she loved Théodred’s and Gamling’s and Háma ’s and any other Rider who walked through the door who would pay her. She might like him because he didn’t leave bruises on her and perhaps she actually received pleasure from the coupling, but that was it. 

In retrospect, he came to the conclusion about how possessive Lýðrest obviously had become.

_…that’s my husband…_

But by the same token, Elfhelm considered her…well… 

His. 

What a strange phenomenon. It was a bizarre kind of awakening, to see his wife, that he hadn’t even made love to yet, rolling the floor with another woman over him, cursing like...

Well… cursing like Lýðrest. And fighting over him. As if he were special to her.

Oh and the payroll was short. _Damn. Forgot about that._ He turned around and began the long walk back. The payroll needed to be taken care of tonight. The last thing he wanted was a string of angry Riders wanting their pay. He turned around solemnly. Perhaps Lýðrest had calmed down enough to at least take care of that with him and then they could discuss what happened, what hadn’t happened and how they could ensure that such a wretched misunderstanding didn’t happen again.

Somewhere between there and where he was going, Gamling showed up. The young man didn’t seem surprised to see him and in fact, waited for Elfhelm to pull up next to him. “Tracking me or out for a stroll?” As he came even, Gamling turned his horse around in the opposite direction and the two began to head back to the garrison.

“Tracked you. Not hard.” 

“I’ll bet the town is talking.”

Gamling shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Elfhelm looked at his friend askance from the side of his eye. “You’re getting like your da.”

“Thank you. Speaking of da, after he deals with Mayda, he is going to figure out why your strong box was shorted.”

“Mayda?” Elfhelm reared back. “What did she do?” 

“She told Lýðrest where you were.” 

Elfhelm grimaced. “Why?” 

“Being a bicce.” 

Elfhelm took in the implications. “Béma save me from daughters.” 

Gamling shrugged. It wasn’t his place to speculate, at least out loud. The two walked in silence for a time. Finally…

“How is Lýðrest?” 

Gamling inhaled. “The tavern cleared out pretty fast. You should know there were bets being placed on who would win.”

“Who won?”

Gamling leaned to the side and spit. “Lýðrest.” He inhaled before continuing. “I hope you don’t mind. I bought her a drink, a pretty weak ale to calm her down. She thought when you sent her home, you were sending her back to Druncenig Ende. She was… distressed.” 

Elfhelm sat up straighter, his face in a scowl. “Why would she think that?” 

“Dunno.” Gamling stopped, forcing his friend to stop as well. “Can I speak frankly?”

“When have you ever NOT spoken frankly?” 

Gamling seemed to sit quietly. He was thinking and Elfhelm knew he was choosing his words. As much as Elfhelm joked about it, the truth was, as he grew older, more mature, Gamling _was_ becoming more like his father; careful in choosing his words and in some ways, rather reticent. 

“I don’t wish to offend.” 

“Gamling, we’ve been friends a long time. One of my earliest memories is wrestling in the mud with you when we were what… three?… four?… summers?”

“I didn’t like her when I met her,” the red-head spat. “She’s coarse, unrefined. Béma, she swears as bad as her uncle. I didn’t think she was worthy of you, good enough. But… she’s grown on me. Grown on a lot of people.” He humorously snorted. “You should have seen her back Æðelred into the wall, cursing him with that raspy tongue of hers when he made a pass at her. Don’t,” he held a hand up, “worry about it. Da took care of him. He won’t go near her again.” He held up a finger, his thumb measuring past the first knuckle. “She had her finger this deep into his sternum. I’ll bet he bruised.” That made Elfhelm laugh. “She works hard, has your office organized in a way I’ve never seen and has impressed a few people with her healing knowledge. Your mother, sisters, and Acha think she hung the moon. Gauwyn adores her and even Mathye is impressed with her.” Gamling stopped for a moment, grabbing his water skin to take a drink. “I like her.”

“When did you change your mind?” Elfhelm’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“When I realized she was jealous. She was jealous of a whore who isn’t worth being jealous over. Obviously, she loves you. I hope you care enough for her back.”

Elfhelm was quiet, taking in his friend’s words. “I do. I really do.”

“Then you need to tell her.”

They walked in silence, the sun setting behind them when the town and garrison finally crowned the horizon.

“I’m being transferred.”

“What?” Elfhelm stopped his horse, his jaw slack.

“I’m not supposed to find out until tomorrow, but Da told me earlier. I’ve gotten a promotion. Lowest captain, but still captain in the King’s Guard. I leave in a few days for Edoras.”

Elfhelm’s face finally split into that grin he was so well known for. “Congratulations! The King’s Guard! That’s pretty big.”

Gamling shrugged, but still smiling. “Aye, I’ll probably be cleaning his horse’s stall but… the King’s Guard.” He shook his head. “I wonder how many strings my da had to yank to pull that off?” 

“Probably none. Your da was in the King’s Guard before he became Marshal.”

“Aye. So was my grandfather and his father.” His smile fell. “I hope I don’t screw it up. I fear Théoden King will die on my watch, beneath my very nose.” They were now at the outskirts of the town. “I don’t know who has the hardest job tonight. Me, dealing with my sisters or you, dealing with your wife.”

Elfhelm was shaking his head. “I don’t know. But I won’t trade you.”

~~~…~~~

“Cry.” Earcongotæ sat the girl down on the bench in front of the fireplace, as Lýðrest began to do just that. She poked the coals, starting the fire up and went outside to gather water for tea. After putting on the teakettle, she poked through the cupboard, finding a fine array of herbs and other… interesting things. She pulled down the chamomile and measured a healthy dollop for tea. When the water began to boil, she poured a generous cup and handed it to her, waiting for the sniffling and hiccups to come to a halt. “The first thing you need to know is nothing happened. Your husband did not approach her and, in fact, was setting her off. On the few occasions he has been to my establishment, he has gone so far as to refasten her gown and has made it very clear he was not interested.” She waited for Lýðrest to nod in acknowledgement.

“Why was he there?” 

Earcongotæ shrugged. “I hear he had a rider who wanted to rotate out of patrol duty and he was trying to find a replacement. His wife is pregnant and over due.” 

“It had to be Penda.” Lýðrest had come to know all in Elfhelm’s command as well as their families. “It’s their first and she’s having a difficult time of it.” 

Their door slammed open, Hereswið running in, Aelwydd on her heels. “Lýðrest, honey!” The woman squatted in front of her, taking her hands. “Mathye told me what happened. Elfhelm’s temper is usually short-lived. Fresh air and a ride and he’ll come back and you’ll work this out.”

Lýðrest was busy looking at Hereswið and Earcongotæ. “You’re… you’re…”

“Twins. Identical,” Hereswið began, “until she turned gray.”

“You rinse yours in blanche-root!”

“I do not,” Hereswið sniffed disdainfully. 

Aelwydd ignored the two sisters good-natured arguing. She sat down beside the young woman. “If you’ll give me the key to the strongbox and tell me where it is, Gamhelm and I will go back through it to see why it’s short.” She waited for Lýðrest to dig down in her blouse to retrieve the key from its long leather thong. Once the Marshal’s wife pocketed the key and Lýðrest whispered the location of the safe under the floor, she took her hand. “Mayda did this on purpose. She’s had a crush on Elfhelm for a long time and she is being disciplined for it. Don’t blame Elfhelm.”

“I don’t,” Lýðrest whispered. “I’m more upset at me. He… yelled at me. Told me to go home. I thought he meant to my da.”

“You know he didn’t mean that.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m fekking scared and I don’t know what to expect.” She squared her shoulders, that Lýðrest- bravado trying to resurrect itself. “The only thing I can think of is I need to fekking seduce my husband tonight and I have no clue how to do it!” She lifted her eyes, taking in three slowly evil smiles. “Help.”

Hereswið backhanded her sister good-naturedly. “Get the tub. You,” she stabbed her finger at Aelwydd. “Get that lovely scrap of lace – where is it Lýðrest? The trunk? – of a nightgown she brought with her. I’m going to run back to my house and grab my bottle of rose water…”

“Perhaps, my bag of face paints-”

“Dear Béma on his steed!” Aelwydd gasped. “We don’t want her to look like one of your girls!” 

“NOT MUCH!” Earcongotæ snarled. “I just want to enhance, not paint her up like the side of the market! Look at her!” She gently grabbed Lýðrest’s jaw. “She’s as pale as that… dear Béma! Is that what she brought for her wedding night?” Hereswið was holding up the gown and admiring it. “He’ll tear that right off of her!” The woman waved dismissively. “Then again, that might be a good thing! Don’t worry about your rose water. I have rose oil. It will last longer!” She jumped out and ran out the door, almost forgetting to shut it behind her. 

No sooner than the door was closed, Hereswið was sitting where her sister had been. “When she comes back, she’s going to tell you to act the lady outside this door, but be a whore in the bed. She’s right. You enjoy him thoroughly, allow him to please you and be at least willing to try something new.”

“You’re starting off just like I did,” Aelwydd added. “I’ve been married to that stubborn man of mine for almost twenty-seven summers and would you believe he’s never told me he loved me. But he does! I know he does. He shows me he loves me when takes my hand, the sweet way he kisses me and the way he makes love to me. Let Elfhelm make love to you and you make love back! The marriage bed is a joy!” 

“Are you taking women’s lore?”

“What?” The women were talking a mile a minute, water filling the tub. In a heartbeat, Lýðrest found herself stripped and in the tub, the two women now bathing her like a child. “What do you mean, women’s lore?” 

“Baby. Do you want to conceive a child or do you want to wait a few seasons, have him to yourself?”

“Aye, once the babies arrive, you’ll have little time for the two of you.”

Water cascaded over Lýðrest’s head and a bar of sweet-smelling soap found its way into her hair. “When I left Druncenig Ende, Belle told me several things to put in my tea to drink every day.” She rattled off the list of herbs.

“Have you been taking them?”

“Well… yes…”

“Good! You keep taking them until the two of you are ready. Close your eyes.” Quickly her hair was rinsed. With an efficiency she was hard pressed to keep up with, they had her out of the tub, toweled dry in front and sitting in front of the fire, her back to it, while they brushed out her hair.

“If you just braid it, it will dry-”

“NO!” Earcongotæ had returned and standing in front of the nude woman, inspected her like a prize mare. It made Lýðrest rather uncomfortable. Self-consciously, she tried to cover herself. “Don’t do that, either. First off, your hair unbound will be the undoing of him. And when he gets his clothes off, you make sure to look at him just as hard as he’ll inspect you. You want to know what you’re going to be sleeping with for the rest of your life. Don’t let it scare you.” She smiled saucily. “It will fit.” From somewhere, a bottle with a pale pink oil materialized in the brothel keeper’s hand. She uncorked it and began to dab the scented perfume in places that made Lýðrest jump. 

“What the fek?”

Earcongotæ leaned back. “What do you think, Hereswið?” A little color on her eyes?”

“No. Perhaps the cheeks, just a touch. And her lips, as well. Something soft, not red.”

Lýðrest shoved the well-meaning hand away. “I don’t want to be painted! Fek my eyes!” 

Earcongotæ took a step back. “She’s related to Hæfern, isn’t she?” All three women shook their heads. The brothel keeper perused Lýðrest thoughtfully. “You know, we had a Rider who loved to be loudly cursed at when he was riding breakneck speed. We always knew which girl he was with. You could hear her yelling down the hall, ‘Ride me harder, you whoreson-”

“That’s enough,” Hereswið murmured. “You’ll scare Lýðrest.” 

Aelwydd had emptied the tub and nudged Earcongotæ to help her carry it out to the back. “Gamhelm and I will take care of payroll tomorrow. Tell Elfhelm he is not expected in at all tomorrow. Gamhelm will send him straight back if he sees him.”

“But-”

“I’ll talk to Gamhelm. Don’t worry.” Quietly, the two women left, leaving Lýðrest with her mother-in-law. 

“Here, let’s get this pretty thing on.” Hereswið held up the lacy nightshift.

“Why bother?” Lýðrest asked quietly. “You said he’ll just tear it off me.”

“That’s half the fun,” Hereswið smiled. “Hands up.” She slid the gown over Lýðrest’s head. “Everyone loves to unwrap pretty packages.” Once the silky material was smoothed over Lýðrest’s hips, the hem falling to the floor, Hereswið stepped back. “Ah, you look like you’re going to funeral. Smile.” Lýðrest’s smile was forced. “You can do better than that. Here,” she began to pinch the young woman’s cheeks. “There. That’s a little better.” She led her daughter-in-law to the chair by the fire and handed her a brush. “Have a seat by the fire and start brushing. Turn your back to the door.” Lýðrest watched as the woman turned the quilt down on the bed and went around the room, blowing out the candles and lamps. When she finished, she stood before the girl. “He’ll not harm you, he’ll not hurt you. You fear the unknown. Here. Take this.” Hereswið laid a long white cord in her lap. There were unshed tears in her eyes. “This is my wedding cord. I have three married children who used it on their wedding night and it would please me if you and Elfhelm did the same. I know you’ve not had a ceremony-”

“I’ve… not planned one.”

“I know you haven’t.” Hereswið patted her gently on the shoulder. “But you’ve not had a proper wedding night, either. Give this to Elfhelm. In the morning when you’re both ready, have him hang it on the outer door. Gamhelm, Gamling and Gauwyn will make it official.” She leaned forward with a smile. “That will shut Mayda up and put a lot of ugliness to rest for good. I’ll make sure they bring food as well. Make sure you are truly wrapped up in his cloak.” With a whispered kiss on her forehead, the woman silently went out the door, leaving Lýðrest with her fears. 

_tbc_


	14. You can make me Free

__

My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 14 

__

You can make me Free 

Elfhelm gingerly entered the cottage. He expected crockery to be thrown at him, curses to be hurled, but none of that occurred. There was no light in the living area, save a low glow from the fireplace. As he closed the door and dropped the bar, he noticed his bedroll was packed and settled by the entrance with his saddlebags. He exhaled softly, not knowing what it could mean. As he looked about, he saw a white cord – a wedding cord – lying on the bench next to her.

“Lýðrest?”

“Over here. Drop the bar, please.” 

Quietly, almost on cat’s paws, he crossed the living area. She had her back to him, mindlessly brushing that glorious head of hair. Golden strands glowed in the light of the fire, the reflection dancing like sunlight around the crown of her head. She was wearing the filmiest of gowns, the outline of her body, clearly visible.

“Lýðrest, about what I said-“

“Wait.“ She stood up and put the brush on the mantel. As she turned to face him, the light shown through the thinness of the gown, showing every physical attribute. He inhaled sharply; she was… léoflic… beautiful perfection. She clasped her hands in front of her, nervously chewed her lip. This was not the spitting, hissing, foul-mouthed cat he agreed to ‘marry’ and take from Druncenig Ende, rather a terrified, anxious bride, about to take a leap from which she would never return. “I have been thinking about what you said.”

“I was upset.”

“You were right,” she snapped. “You … you are right. I should have trusted you.” She exhaled and steeled her back. “I should have let you explain. I thought you meant to send me back and truth be told, I can’t go back, you can’t change things, we can’t pretend this marriage didn’t take place.” By now, her knuckles were as white as the shift she was wearing. “I know you didn’t touch… her. And it’s unfair that I deny you and yet pummel anyone who desires to take my place and take what is mine. It’s unfair to you.” She dropped her head before whispering, “If you do not take me tonight and make me yours, I am afraid of what I will become.”

For several moments, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. 

“Elfhelm. Please. I don’t know what to do.”

He sat at the foot of the bed, scrutinizing her, her face, her body language. This was not the posture of a woman in passion, rather more like a beaten dog, backed into a corner.

He didn’t like it. Not a bit. This wasn’t how he imagined a marriage, married life. 

Not at all. Not with her.

“Lýðrest, look at me.” Slowly, she looked up, a single tear trickled from her right eye. “I do not wish to spend the rest of my life, living for campaign after campaign. I know Riders who live like that. Anything to keep from going home to the _bicce_ they married. I want to look forward to coming home, look forward to the arms that will welcome me. Do you understand that?”

She nodded. “Aye.” Gingerly, she reached out and took his hand. “I’ll try if you will. I want you, I really do. I just don’t know where to start… Please?”

The question in her voice tore him apart. He pulled her to him, between his legs and with a single motion, drew her down.

His lips were questioning, soft and pliable against hers. For a moment, she was shocked at the contact; she expected them to be as hard and unyielding, furious at her. Very gently, he cradled her, cradled her head, his thumb stroking the lobe of her ear, while his mouth searched hers. She was unaware of when he pulled her to the bed and rolled her to tight crevice where his body met the mattress.

He tasted faintly of ale, a sweet, heady yeast and somewhere in the back of her mind, she decided she liked the taste on him. She whimpered when his mouth left hers and trailed across her jaw and she instinctively went in search of it, finding instead his neck. He arched back, giving her access to his Adam’s apple

His hands pulled her closer, held her closer, tucking her into him. Eventually, his mouth found hers again and they rolled with him settling between her legs.

He was huge; that registered in her fogging brain, foggy with passion, with need. Compared to him, she was tiny, his weight pressing her deep into the down mattress. Several times, he drew himself up between her legs, allowing her to feel, experience his arousal, shielded only by their clothing. Suddenly, the room was stifling. 

“Elfhelm? Don’t we need to…”

“Hmmm?” His mouth was busy with the tender area beneath her ear.

“Our… clothes… we can’t…”

He reared up, blue eyes dark, stormy as the night. “You’re right,” his smiled glowing in the soft firelight. He rose from the bed, Lýðrest acutely aware of the immediate temperature change. She heard his boots hit the floor. As she sat up, she watched as he unfastened his belt, the ties to his tunic and pulling the wool over his head, slung the garment and his trappings to the corner. He turned to face her, now clad in only his trousers. He held out his hand. “Come.”

As she slid from the bed, he took her by the fingers and drawing her close, laid her hand on his chest, the flat of her palm over his areola. “You asked several days ago, if I would become aroused like you. Explore me. Find out.”

As her hand grazed well-defined pectoral muscles, she found out indeed, he did become stimulated, he was a sensitive to her touch as she was to his. Uncaring that his other hand had drifted down to her hip, cupping her possessively, her fingers flickered tentatively over his chest. The heat in the room was stifling and Elfhelm had a thin sheen of perspiration that coated his chest. With the sweetest of gestures, Lýðrest caressed the broad shoulder blade, feeling the moisture beneath her fingertips. Suddenly, her eyes brightened and she leaned forward, boldly licking, tasting the salt of his body, her tongue flicking over his pebbling disc.

Elfhelm’s legendary self-control came to a crashing halt. As tenderly as he could, he took both of her hands and stepped back.

“Unlace me,” he whispered roughly. She looked up at him, confusion in eyes. He placed her hands on his waistband. “Unlace me.” She was shaking, trembling as she undid the ties, kneeling to help him kick them off. Her eyes were cast down. “Don’t be shy, Lýðrest. I know you aren’t. Look at me. Go ahead.”

In recent weeks, her curiosity had been over-whelming, and emboldened by the women’s comments earlier, she enjoyed, appreciated the solidness of the man before her. Her hand strayed up the muscle of his leg, the palm gliding over the length and thickness of his shaft. 

“Promise me,” she breathed huskily, grasping his rod firmly, marveling at the heat, the hardness, the width of it, “you will fit and not tear me apart.”

The power of her touch sent him spiraling, gasping. He bent over, taking her by the elbow and pulling her to her feet. He reached for her shift.

“Please don’t rip it.”

“Then never worry with the wearing of it again.” Elfhelm grunted, clutching the delicate material below her hip and pulling it up. He slung it to the floor with the rest of his clothes, without second thought.

“Léoflic. Ah. Léoflic.” This time when he embraced her, it was skin-to-skin, heat-to-heat. His hand reached down to encompass the sweet arch of her derriere, pulling her closer to him, his cock pressed against her belly. He leaned down, taking her mouth, pulling on her lip, nibbling it. Both of his hands were now on the delectable curve of her arse, lifting her and setting her on the bed. She scrambled backwards, giving him room to join her.

Again, he kissed her deep, pushing, pressing her into the mattress. His hand was now moving back down to her hip. His lips blazed a trail from her neck to that lovely handful of breast he loved to tease. At the same time, his hand moved over her thigh, her legs instinctively opening for him. She shuddered at the back of his fingernails, cascading over her lower curls, his realization that they were damp. As his mouth clamped over her very erect nipple, a solitary finger plunged up and into her.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/14_zpsbc158cbc.jpg.html)

 

Lýðrest gasped, her legs attempting to slam shut. “Elfhelm, what-”

He never ceased from his ardent task. “Shh. Relax.” He tilted his head so he could look at her. “Remember when I told you it would fit?” She nodded her head numbly, her legs slowly letting go. “I’m making sure I fit. Enjoy this.”

She snorted. “Enjoy it, he says. Relax, he says.” Her breath hitched when he clamped down on her breast again, his tongue lavishing so much attention to it. At some point, his solitary finger began to move, his thumb encircling her clitoris, and her hips began an age-old rhythm that caused a tightening in her womb. She was unaware when he inserted a second finger. He encircled her, played her, allowed her move. She was unaware when she began to call for him, croon…

“Dríeman æt mé, wógere,” he whispered against heated skin. “Dríeman æt mé.”

He knew when she climaxed, when her body tightened up and the very thing she strove for, happened. He stroked up, locating that hard knot and pressed, causing her to spiral completely out of control. He continued until she fell back to earth, her legs tightening around him again. 

For a short time, he released her breast, turned her loose and kneeling beside her, where she could and did watch him through an obvious haze of lust, took the two fingers he had imbedded in her so sweetly and stuck them in his mouth. “Þú ábirging sylfum hunigtéar.”

Lýðrest was out of breath. “I… rather doubt… I taste like hon…ey down there.”

Elfhelm chuckled deep. “I expect you’ll find out exactly how you taste eventually, but aye, you taste of it to me.” As her breathing slowed to a more normal rate, he rose up, kneeing her thighs apart. As he settled between them, he placed himself at her entrance. He held himself back, having felt for himself, the snugness of her passage and the strength of her maidenhead. 

This was probably going to hurt.

He leaned over her, kissing her again, again teasing and nipping at those sweet breasts. He moved back as her hips began to dance again until his control was at a breaking point.

“Léoflic?” 

Her mouth was frantic, hands everywhere. He rather expected that she would beat on him when he finally claimed her for good. He lifted up, plucking her arms from around his neck – she might try to strangle him, as well. Large fingers encircled the tiny wrists and he pinned them securely to the mattress above her head.

“Léoflic?” 

Her eyes flew open. She knew… she knew…

“I promise. It will fit.”

Eventually.

“Elfhelm?”

He smiled down on her. “Are you ready?”

Lýðrest blinked twice. “Aye.” 

“Raise your knees around my hips.” As she lifted, he pressed her wrists firmly to the bed. The tip of him sank into velvet heat. As she inhaled again, he lifted slightly and sank in, tearing through that thin shield.

She expected a sting, she expected it to-

 **“OW!”**

The tightness of her was mesmerizing, the feel of her, wet, molten cavern. His head fell on her shoulder; the tendons of her wrist where he held her still, spasming, flexing. Slowly, he began to move within her. “I’m sorry.”

“OW!”

His strokes became bolder, deeper. “Do tell.”

“Ow.” Her knees lifted higher, allowing him to go deeper.

“Still hurt?”

“ow.”

“But it fits.” He turned her wrists loose, both of his hands going to her hips.

“ow.”

“It will help if you move, léoflic.” His lips worried her ear, the sensitive spot just beneath it.

For moments, seconds, an eternity, there was so no sound, save ragged breathing. After a short time, the pain did lessen although not disappearing altogether. As she moved, meeting him stroke for stroke, that delightful tightening began to grow. Their hands found the other’s hair, tangling, gripping and Elfhelm’s mouth found hers. What started sweetly, became turbulent, a delicious battle.

“Léoflic, please… I can’t last much longer.” His strokes had become furious, harder, and almost painful. Lýðrest sought to recreate that explosion he created in her before and just as he tore his mouth from hers, roaring into the curve of her neck, she tumbled over the edge behind him.

~~~…~~~ 

“Will it always hurt at first?”

“No.”

She snuggled in. “Good.”

“Léoflic?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is there a white cord on the table?” 

Lyorest sounded very sleepy. “It’s your mother’s. She said we deserved a proper wedding night.”

“She planned this?” He reared up on one elbow. “This was planned?”

“I planned this. I needed help.” She looked up at him in ire. “We couldn’t go on like we have been.” At this, her voice dropped. “You said the longer we waited, the harder it would be.” She snorted once, her hand curving into his back, attempting to pull him closer again. “Besides, it will put stupidity to rest. If you hang it out on the door in the morning, we… can be caught in your cloak properly.”

“Who?”

“Gamhelm, Gamling, and Gauwyn.” 

Elfhelm laid down and pulled her close, finally ready for sleep. “Gamhelm catching us will be enough to put a stop all that bullshite.” Lýðrest giggled at the sound of her husband swearing. “Silly-” 

_My sweet thing._

“-wench.”

From in the shadow of his embrace, bright eyes peered up. “Gamhelm and Aelwydd are dealing with the payroll and Aelwydd said they do not expect to see you in the garrison, much less anywhere tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” his lips grazed her forehead, “that perhaps you would like to do some more of this?”

“If it doesn’t hurt.”

He pulled her tighter. “It won’t. Go to sleep.”

 

_tbc_

 

I love you - Ic ferhþlufu ðu

Sing to me, sweetheart. - Dríeman æt mé, wógere.

 

You taste like a dripping honeycomb. - Þú ábirging sylfum hunigtéar 

Hunigtéar – honey that drips from the comb


	15. 15 - She's Always a Woman

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My Sweet Thing 

__

Chapter 15 

__

She’s Always a Woman 

Lýðrest awoke to the realization that she was the only one in the bed and it was cold. She sat up, groggy and wincing at the sting between her legs.

“Don’t get up.” The front door cracked open, her husband’s naked form outlined in the early morning light. “There. That’s done.” The door shut, bathing the bungalow in darkness. There was a rustling, the fire in the fireplace now bathing the cottage in a low glow. “Where did I put my… aha!” Elfhelm dashed to the trunk, where his cloak lay and started towards the bed with it. “Going to wrap you properly this time, léoflic!” He slid into the bed, his back to the door and slung the bright, green cloak over the two of them. “I hope they hurry! I’m starving!” 

Lýðrest’s stomach began to rumble. She suddenly remembered neither one had had any dinner the night before. They were too busy devouring each other. “They are supposed to bring breakfast with them. I hope they don’t forget.” She snorted rudely. “Just our fekking luck, they would forget and then we’d have to get up and go roust the chickens for eggs!” She began to scoot over to give him room.

“No. You in front, facing the door.” Elfhelm climbed over her. “Last thing I want is Gamling leaning over the bed to make sure it’s you. He’s done that before!” He kicked the quilt down around the foot of the bed and threw his cloak over the two of them. Lýðrest found herself pulled in close, her bottom against a semi-erect Elfhelm. Considering how many times the two of them had made love the night before-

“BÉMA! Does that thing ever take a rest?” Despite her harsh words, her tone was light.

“Not with you around.” It was whispered in her ear and Elfhelm’s hand found its way to her breast. “In fact-”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted with a rattling at the door. Lýðrest ducked her head, trying to hide, praying that all of her was concealed by the bright green cloak.

“Ah, good morrow, Elfhelm, Lýðrest.” Even with her eyes tightly shut, she recognized Gauwyn’s bright voice. “Mother sent breakfast; fresh bread with butter and sausage-”

“Sausage?” Elfhelm picked his head up from his pillow. “Sage sausage?”

There was a smack to the back of the head. “Get on with it.” Ah. Gamling. “Lýðrest, I see you wrapped in Elfhelm’s cloak.” His voice was droll. “Perhaps now, the world will be at peace.” There was thumping as the man left.

“Lýðrest, I see you wrapped in Elfhelm’s cloak. I wish you much happiness.” There was more thumping as Gauwyn left. It was quiet for a moment.

“Don’t get out of bed.” Gamhelm pushed the door to. “The missing fifty silver pieces were accidentally put in another battalion’s payroll. It happens on occasion and it’s all taken care of. An honest mistake is all. Aelwydd will deal with the payment of the soldiers. Do not come into the garrison today. Either one of you. There is fresh brewed caffe as well.” Lýðrest opened her eyes to see him pull the door back open, before saying loudly, “I see you Lýðrest of the Westfold, wrapped in Elfhelm’s cloak. May you bring each other much joy.” And with that pronouncement, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Elfhelm leapt from the bed, dropping the bar before anyone else could come in. He turned to his wife, unabashed at his nakedness, much less the smear of blood on his member and thighs. “I say we eat while it’s still hot and then we find out if that tub will hold two.”

Neither one put on clothes until the next morning and when both Elfhelm and Lýðrest were aged beyond belief, it would be a day both would look back to as not only one of the best days of their lives, but truly the start of their marriage.

~~~…~~~ 

Their world quickly settled into a comfortable routine. In the day, Lýðrest’s tongue was not sweetened and Riders learned to give her a wide berth when she was in an irascible mood – which was always. Consistent, satisfactory marital relations did not gentle her a bit. If Elfhelm was out on patrol, his family kept her busy, busy in the tavern, busy with the rowdiness of a large family. Even Gamhelm and Aelwydd kept her running. When all was said and done, Lýðrest would learn to run a garrison as well as any captain, run a homestead, a good sized estate as well as any noblewoman or chatelaine and she could already run a business as if she started it. Mayda still gave her a wide berth, although she did attempt a stammering, whispered apology to both Lýðrest and Elfhelm.

Elfhelm was quite a bit more gracious than his wife. 

True to the word of his father, Gamling did receive a promotion to captain and was reassigned to Edoras into the King’s personal guard. There was a huge celebration at the tavern for him – which incidentally quietly spilled over to the Three Legged Rider. If anyone noticed that Aedilthryd wasn’t there, they said nothing and no one asked for her. 

Gamhelm would never tell anyone that his wife cried herself to sleep for a week after their only son left. Truth be told, he did as well.

So, life was… not quiet, but it was life, a comfortable routine and Lýðrest fell into the reassurance of it. Spring went, summer was abysmal hot and wet. Autumn came, welcomed cooler temperatures and a plentiful harvest. Lýðrest’s cooking improved… a little bit. 

And an unseasonably cold winter came on. In the dark whispers of the night, they agreed to try to conceive a child.

~~~…~~~ 

Spring returned to the Riddermark. It occurred to Lýðrest that Elfhelm brought her to this bustling garrison town early the previous spring; a year. She had been an unwilling, hostile bride, but things changed just as her da said they would and she was comfortable in her marriage now. Considering her prospects back at Druncenig Ende, she quietly thanked Béma that her da had forced this on her.

She missed him, missed him horribly and she wondered how he was doing. Many times she thought of asking Elfhelm if they could take a few days, go visit, check on him. She worried that Hucohun had done something, but she thought her father hale enough to deal with the arsewipe. Hæfern was that way quite often. Surely, if anything were wrong, he or someone would tell her, right?

Wouldn’t they?

~~~…~~~ 

Lýðrest heard them, just after she broke her fast. Elfhelm was in Edoras with Gamhelm; due back in a day or so and she was at loose ends. She was unusually draggy, tired, and not her usual, efficient self. Her garrison duties were caught up, ahead actually, - it was amazing what she could accomplish without that husband of hers underfoot, pinching her bottom when no one was around, tweaking her breast, kissing her soundly - and she wouldn’t be needed at the tavern until evening. Aelwydd told her to take some time to herself; the woman expected her to sew, for Béma’s sake! She left Elfhelm’s office with the thought to simply go back to hers and Elfhelm’s cottage and going back to bed. Perhaps a few extra hours of sleep would refresh her.

“Lýðrest!” The voice pulled her from her thoughts, mostly missing Elfhelm and just registering her exhaustion. It was vaguely familiar.

“Lýðrest!” 

She jerked her head, looking for the source, the one yelling her name. It took her a moment to place the name with the face. “Ceoluulf?”

He came running towards her, the look of heavy riding hanging about him. His brother Immin ran behind him. The sight of the two teenagers from home sent tingles and not the good kind, up her spine. If there was trouble, they were typically in the middle of it, mischief-makers and pranksters – and not the nice kind. Their da had left years before, leaving their mother with six mouths to feed. Harried and run ragged, the woman did anything to put food on the table, pay for repairs to their run-down shack. “What brings you to Cantwaraburg?”

Both boys looked at each other, nervous, ticky. Lýðrest thought they would attempt to tell her a fanciful tale…

“It’s your da,” Ceoluulf spoke out, the words forced, falling from nervous lips. “Hucohun-”

Any thought of subterfuge, tricking flew from her mind. “What about Hucohun?”

Again, the two looked at each other, fear or… something else… crossing their features. “Your da threw him out of town when you left.” Immin started, “but he came back last week.”

“He tried to burn the tavern down,” Ceoluulf blurted.

“Aye!” 

They now had Lýðrest’s full attention. “Is anyone hurt? Is my da okay? The tavern?”

“Well,” Immin began to rub the back of his neck, his stare rooted to the dirt between his boots. “We managed to put out the fire, with little damage, but Hucohun…”

“Is my da alright?” Lýðrest’s voice was now stringent, the volume rising. Many passers-by stopped to listen in.

“Hucohun beat him up pretty bad.”

“He needs stitchin’ and he won’t let anyone touch him.”

“Tortgyð says she thinks he has some cracked ribs-”

Lýðrest’s mind flew leagues in a minute. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” Ceoluulf was quick to respond. “Just what we’ve been able to catch the two nights we’ve been on our way.”

Lýðrest jerked her head for the boys to follow her. “If you go down that way to the end of the lane, you’ll find a tavern my mother-in-law owns. Your best manners, you fekking dolts. Tell her I’m traveling and I need provisions to go home. Tell her to feed you, as well.”

“Just you?” Immin squeaked. “What about yer husband?” 

“He’s in Edoras. Go on with you! I’ll meet you in the tavern in half an hour.” With that she ran off to what the boys assumed to be her home. With her back to them, she didn’t see the winks and knowing smiles the two gave each other.

~~~…~~~ 

Hæfern rode into town a scant two hours after his niece high-tailed it out of town on a quickly saddled and packed Æppel. He was met before he even got to the barn by a visibly upset group of women.

“Where’s Gamhelm?” Aelwydd whispered. She was carrying a large bag and peering around him, looking for more dust.

“Where’s Elfhelm?” Hereswið was equally distressed. She also had a large sack and looking anxiously for more Riders.

“Béma’s balls, wenches! What’s going on? Can’t a man get off his fekking horse? Have a bath, a pint, and a screw, before you start pestering him?” 

“You are disgusting,” Aelwydd hissed, “but Lýðrest rode out of here-”

“WHAT?”

“With two scraggly boys-”

“WHAT?”

“I don’t trust either one,” Hereswið muttered, her arms crossed over her chest. “They came in, told me Lýðrest said to feed them and then sat in the corner, giggling like they pulled the biggest stunt ever!” 

Within a few minutes, those large rucksacks stored in his saddlebags, Lýðrest’s crabby, exhausted uncle tore out of town, racing after his obviously brainless niece.

~~~…~~~ 

Not twenty-four hours later, an equally exhausted Elfhelm, along with Gamhelm and a group of Riders, followed behind, met by the same group of anxious women with food satchels already bundled.

“I’m going to bust her arse!” Elfhelm snarled as he reloaded his horse. “Put her over my knee and just blister those cheeks!” He shoved an angry finger in a strangely calm Gamhelm. “And she won’t like it this time!” 

Gamhelm stroked his jaw thoughtfully. “Spanking can be fun, however, there are times discipline is warranted.”

“GAMHELM!” His wife was aghast. She and Hereswið had fresh bags waiting for the two and Aelwydd already had a fresh group of Riders ready to go with Elfhelm when he arrived. “Some things are not discussed in public.”

His gaze was smoldering hot, a look meant to curl his wife’s toes and did. “Then we will discuss it upon my return.” Gamhelm bent down from his great height. “You know where I expect to find you!” With that he mounted up.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/15_zps9d24e525.jpg.html)

Hereswið caught her son by the arm. “Do not lose your temper with her, Elfhelm. She is frightened for her father.”

“She should have waited for me!” he growled. “She knew I would be home soon!” 

“Elfhelm, you don’t understand. There… there might be a problem.”

He leaned over his mother, his own breath wafting through her hair. “Might be?”

“Well… I’m not sure but…” she began to whisper furiously in his ear.

Elfhelm turned white, before nodding once and mounted up. He galloped out of the barn, yelling to catch up with the group, and now nervously chomping at the bit. 

He pushed them from sunup to sundown. They arrived in Druncenig Ende less than thirty minutes after Lýðrest arrived. 

_tbc_


	16. The Great Suburban Showdown

****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Chapter 16 

****

The Great Suburban Showdown 

In her mind’s eye, Druncenig Ende appeared to be more ramshackle and run-down that when she left. More shutters hanging askew, more whitewash gone. The tack shed outside the barn, which had been leaning so precariously, but the blacksmith swore would last another season, had not and now lay in ruins. Not waiting for the brothers or her uncle – who managed to catch up to the small party before dinner – she rode straight up to her father’s tavern and leaping off none too gracefully, wrapped the reins around the hitching post and ran into the tavern.

It was quiet, only two patrons sitting in the corner playing ogetarts. Neither one recognized her. 

“Cynni!” The woman was tending bar and her head jerked up. “Where’s Da? How bad is it?” 

Cynni threw her drying rag down, a huge smile on her face. “Ah Lýðrest! ‘Tis good to see you! Marriage has suited you!” 

“Da! Dammit Cynni!” She threw her hands in the air. “He must be in his room! If you’ll get my bags from my horse, I’ll tend to his wounds.”

Cynni was now coming out from behind the counter, Belle running down the stairs. “Wounds? Lýðrest! What are you talking about?”

The red flags that Lýðrest had ignored from the beginning burst forth as if to flag an angry bull. “Ceoluulf and Immin rode into Cantwaraburg three days ago and told me that fobbing Hucohun had attempted to burn down the tavern and beat Da to a pulp. Said he was bad off; needed stitching and has broken ribs.”

Cynni and Belle looked at each other in horror. “Their mother wondered where they rode off to without a word to anyone.”

“She thought they went to hunt game,” Belle piped up. 

Cynni approached Lýðrest with much trepidation. “There’s been no fire. Your da isn’t here; he’s gone to Éadesburg for several days.”

“Éadesburg? What in the name of fekking Mordor is in Éadesburg?”

Both women stared at each other in growing horror. “Well, he’s been trying to procure someone to fix a few things that he can’t anymore…” Cynni stammered. She was immediately backhanded by Belle.

“Might as well tell her the truth!” she hissed. “She’ll find out soon enough.”

“Tell me what, dammit?”

Cynni was busy biting her lip. Belle rolled her eyes and spat, “Your da met someone. A widow.” Lýðrest’s jaw dropped. “She runs a tavern in Éadesburg. Apparently she and your da share a supplier for whiskey and he mentioned to her that your da was a widower and his daughter had just got married-”

“You let my da get involved with a mithril digger?” Lýðrest was furious. 

“Well, to be honest, hon,” Belle was quite nonplussed, “Your da will be marrying up-”

“Will be? Will be? What the fek is this ‘will be’ shite?” 

Cynni was shaking her head, staring off somewhere over Lýðrest’s shoulder. “I knew she wouldn’t take it well,” she mumbled more to herself than to anyone.

Belle was none too pleased about how loudly Lýðrest was yelling. “He’s been alone for a long time and the tavern Breguswið owns is much nicer than this place! They’ve been talking about cleaning it up or selling it. Don’t know where they’re going to live when they get married in the fall.”

Lýðrest had heard all she wanted for now. “Has my door ever been fixed?” Both women shook their heads ‘no.’ Lýðrest waved them off angrily. “Fine. Fekking! Fine! I’ll get my things from my horse, take them to da’s room and then I’m going to find those two yeasty, puny, bladders and find out why they lied to me about da!” She turned on her heel and stormed out of the tavern, leaving both women stunned in her wake.

She was pulling her saddlebags from her horse when Hæfern came around from the barn. “Those little fek-wipes couldn’t rub down a horse if you paid them! They left the bridles on-”

“I’m going to find the fek-wipes and beat the shite out of them!” Lýðrest turned on him with her finger wagging. “They completely lied! Hucohun isn’t back, da is in Éadesburg visiting his new ladyfriend… LADYFRIEND! Why the fek didn’t you tell me he had a ladyfriend?”

“Not that big a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Lýðrest dropped her bags to the dirt, her mare looking at her askance. “Apparently according to Cynni and Belle, they’ve done everything but get caught in his cloak! And you said nothing!” She bent over to pick up her bags. “I’m going to put my stuff up and then find those two-”

“I’ll find them,” Hæfern placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, “and drag them here. After you’ve cursed them to the rafters, we’ll get you something to eat and to bed with you.” Lýðrest began to protest, but her uncle put his finger in her face. “You are tired, your eyes are tired and I suspect Elfhelm will be tearing in here tomorrow morning, madder than warg because you left without him.” Again, she started to interrupt. “Don’t gainsay me, girl! Just go do it.” He looked up and around, taking in the unusually quiet town. “Keep your sword close. This shitehole doesn’t smell right.” With that, he turned and stalked off in the direction of the way in which the two boys had scampered off. With an angry sniff, she turned and clomped back into the tavern. She took her things to her da’s room. For the first time, she looked at it, hard. It had always been a comforting place, a place of refuge. She remembered when it would storm, the lightning would terrify her when she was young, running through the hall and climbing in his bed, into his embrace.

Now, it looked like what it really was; threadbare, sparse, a barely existing life. Hers and Elfhelm’s home was nothing grand, certainly not like Elfhelm’s family or the Marshal’s residence, but it had a coziness, a hominess that this tattered room lacked. She laid her packs on the bed, pulling out the herb bag, her healer’s bag. She held up her sword, weighing Hæfern’s words before laying the scabbard to the side. Her stomach was rumbling; she was still not feeling well and run down and looked forward to at least sleeping in a bed tonight. If Elfhelm showed up tomorrow, perhaps he’d agree to spend another night before heading back to Cantwaraburg. She hated sleeping on the ground. It dawned on her he might be furious when he reached her, but surely, he would understand…

She returned to the tavern; Tortgyð had fixed her a plate of stew with fresh bread and she wolfed it down. Hæfern hadn’t returned and she loudly wondered where those two brats had gotten off to. She was going to skin them alive. Lýðrest was so busy planning Ceoluulf and Immin’s painful demise, she didn’t realize Cynni had gone quiet and that they were no longer alone in the tavern.

“Hello Lýðrest.” Her eyes jerked up shocked, to see Hucohun standing across the bar from her. If anything, he looked thinner, mangier than ever, his hair long, filthy and his beard unkempt. 

“You look like you’ve been living in a cave,” she sneered. 

“Pretty much, thanks to your da.”

Her stomach rolled and then it clenched. Without pause, she picked up the bread and sailed it through the left over greasy juices that were no doubt causing her stomach to lurch. “Not my problem.” She popped the sopping piece of bread into her mouth. “I say, you go back and we forget we had this conversation.”

He leaned over the bar, pressing his palms flat against the scarred wood. “I don’t think so. We have unfinished business.”

As leisurely as possible, Lýðrest scanned the tavern. “We have no business to discuss. And as I don’t see your surly arse-maggots anyway…” Her eyes trailed up to the man in front of her, regarding him with much contempt. 

“They are busy keeping your guard dog occupied,” Hucohun snarled. “He won’t be around for a while, if at all.” He grinned with depraved glee that finally surprise and… fear… registered on her face. 

Cynni rushed forward, inserting herself between Lýðrest, the bar, and Hucohun. “You need to leave right now!”

“And who’s going to make me?” he leered. “You?” Before she could respond, the man reached forward, grabbing the woman by the hair and pulled her forward, slamming her into the top of the bar. When he released her, she slid to the floor, unconscious, a trickle of blood from her temple rolling down the side of her face. 

_The sword the sword I have to get my sword…_

Lýðrest immediately took off running, heading towards the kitchen. She could hear Hucohun behind her, chasing her, gaining on her. Her skirts were bulky between her legs, slowing her down and in the twisted screaming back of her mind, she wished she had worn trousers rather than the skirts.

She ran into the kitchen, hearing the solid smack of the swinging door as Hucohun barreled through a second or two behind her. She realized the fire on the stone topped stove was still burning and there was an iron skillet sitting to the top, definitely…

_…hotYES…_

She flapped her arms, forcing her sleeves to her palms and using the thin material as mitts, grabbed the handle of the pan. It was very hot, the heat scorching through the slight cloth, but she held on. As she turned to face down her attacker, she lifted the burning skillet and turning it sideways, slammed the bottom into the jaw and face of Hucohun, before dropping it, as luck would have it, on his foot.

It had the desired affect. Hucohun lurched sideways, screaming in pain, hands to his burned face, while his foot jerked up, hopping…

Lýðrest didn’t stick around to admire her defensive handiwork. Instead she went out the back, turning left to the hallway to her father’s room. She grabbed her sword, pulling it from its scabbard with a bloodcurdling shriek of the forged metal escaping its leather harness. Double handing the sword, as she was taught, she raised it, turning, with the faint hope of escaping to the street. 

It was not to happen.

Hucohun stood in the doorway, fury so very evident on his features, his hands bunched in fists. The left side of his face was already blistering and Lýðrest refused to acknowledge the pain in her palms. 

“You Bicce! BITCH!” he snarled.

“ Tell me something I don’t know!” She brandished her sword at him. “You stay away from me.”

He stepped forward, realizing she was now properly armed. He started to laugh. “What? You would have me believe your husband taught you more than the bedroom arts?”

She slashed downward and then back up, cutting through his rough tunic, cutting skin, now more than Hucohun’s face was burning… he backed her up, further into the room. “You don’t have the balls to kill me!” 

No sooner that the words were out of his mouth, he stiffened, breath gasped inward. He looked down to see the pointed, blooded end – his own blood - of a sword protruding from his gut. As it jerked upwards, the last sound that he ever heard was that captain’s voice…

“She probably would, but that’s not her job. My. Wife. Mine!” Elfhelm yanked his sword out, the sound of metal scraping bone screaming in Lýðrest’s ears. Hucohun’s body slid to the floor and Elfhelm wiped his bloodied sword on the man’s tunic. The man Lýðrest lovingly called husband looked at her with angry, dispassionate eyes. “Your friend out in the bar needs your attention. Take your things and mine to our room upstairs.” With that, he grabbed Hucohun by the foot and proceeded to drag him out of the tavern, leaving a thin trail of blood on the floor. 

It took a moment for what Elfhelm told her to register. Lýðrest then quickly grabbed her medicine bag, still laying out where she put it. She rushed to the tavern, where Cynni was sitting up, her face in her hands.

“Quick, quick, let me look…”

“You’re alright? He didn’t-”

“Shh. Elfhelm killed him.” Just at that moment, she heard him, shouting where he could burn the scum. “Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up two fingers.

“Three. Maybe more. But knowing me, probably two.”

Lýðrest exhaled at that. “Take your hands down. The fekker cracked your skull. Let me see if you need stitches.” Gingerly, she began to prod at the wound, pulling hair from it. “I’m going to have to cut this away.”

“At least I’m alive and he’s a dead fekker!” 

For the first time in days, Lýðrest began to laugh.

~~~…~~~ 

Much willow-bark and other foul smelling things later, a portion of Cynni’s hair in the floor, Lýðrest looked up to see Hæfern standing over her. He jerked his head to the main square. “Yer husband hauled that scum’s body to the town dump to burn. I’m taking his friends’ bodies out there as well.” He snarled up angrily. “They tried to ambush me! Thought they had me outnumbered! Those flea-infested maggots couldn’t ambush a virgin! Last thing they’ll ever do.” He squatted down on his heels. “The Marshal has those two pantywipe teens in the square, scaring the shite out of them. I’ve sent Belle to retrieve their mother. Sounds like there’s more to this fekking excuse of a setup than we know!” With that, he stomped off, his boot ringing through out the tavern room.

“Come on girl,” Lýðrest held out her arm. “Let’s get you to a room to lie down. I’ll bet my old room is safe now,” she said with a sly grin. Cynni’s head had a nasty gash, but her vision was clear and as best Lýðrest could tell, her early prediction that she had a concussion was wrong.

Cynni let her help her up. “Never heard you talk so sweet.” She winced as she stood, the room spinning. “Marriage has been good for you.”

“Aye, but don’t tell that pribbling jolt-head I married that! He’s hard enough to live with.”

The two slowly went down the hall, Lýðrest trying hard not to stare at the blood streak on the floor. Her stomach lurched painfully. Cynni’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “He’s good to you, that captain? Everything is… okay?”

“He’s better to me than my own da,” Lýðrest whispered. “I’m going to make love to him all night and probably all day tomorrow, I was so glad to see him back there.”

“He was mad.” Cynni sat down heavily on the bed and leaned back, letting Lýðrest cover her up. “He was really mad when he came in and heard you yelling.”

“Aye. And I’ll have to put up with his roaring. I deserve it.” She rose from the bed and stretched. “I’d best go to the square. Hæfern said this wasn’t over.” Again, she went back through the tavern, doing her best not to look at the floor. As she came into the square, she saw Riders, specifically Gamhelm, Ceoluulf and Immin on their knees at the Marshal’s feet. Their hands were tied behind their back. Immin, who was not yet fifteen summers, was in tears. 

“We didn’t know what he wanted with her, honest!” 

“Bullshite!” Lýðrest was now in the thick of it. “You knew he made my life a miserable pockmark here! So miserable, my da forced me and the captain into a marriage to get me out of town!” 

“Haven’t heard either one of you complaining about it,” Gamhelm muttered.

“Lýðrest, please.” Immin was now pleading with her. “The little one has been sick. Really sick. There’s not been enough food. He promised us food if we’d just bring you back.” Ceoluulf nodded in agreement. “The whole family. Enough for a moon.” Ceoluulf continued to nod.

Before anyone could respond, much less question, a screaming came from between the barn and the tavern. A prematurely gray woman, aged beyond her years, tore between the buildings, exhaustion evident on her face. “NO! NO! You won’t hurt them!” She shoved herself between the boys and Gamhelm and she carried an aged sword that obviously had not seen action in many seasons. “I don’t know what they did, but it weren’t that bad!” 

“Do you know where your sons have been the last few days?”

She never looked over at them, simply fidgeted. “I thought they were out hunting. Game’s been scarce, there’s been no food…” her voice trailed off and she began to nervously wring her hands on her apron. “The baby’s been sick. I don’t know what to do…” Æðelberga was frightened, that much was obvious. Very frightened and not lying. “There’s been no man in our home. It’s been hard…”

Lýðrest began to scan the crowd, looking for any familiar face. Finally… “Mathye, do you know your way around a kitchen?”

“I can make do.”

She pointed to her father’s tavern. “Go in, find anything that can be cooked. There is probably left over stew, some bread. Watch out for the floor.” Her palms were still smarting from the hot skillet. “The stove is still hot. Fix them something to eat.” She nodded over to the distraught woman. “We’ll feed them, don’t worry about my da. He’s busy courtin’ in another town and he won’t miss a few meals! Bring your baby. I’m no healer, but…”

“You were always the apple of your da’s eye.” She turned back to Gamhelm. “I’ll not leave until my sons’ lives are guaranteed.”

Gamhelm stared at her, a look that made Riders wilt. He jerked his head at Lýðrest, taking her away from the crowd.

“No man for a long time, but she has a sick baby?”

Lýðrest bowed up. “Her man left… oh… eight summers ago. She’s struggled to make ends meet.” Gamhelm grimaced at that pronouncement. “No one blames her. I suspect she doesn’t know how to use women’s lore properly or more than likely she couldn’t afford the herbs. No one knows who those last two belong to. I bet she doesn’t either.” She touched him on the sleeve. “They are poorer than dirt and she’s too proud to take steady charity. But someone needs to take her two boys in hand.” 

Gamhelm seemed to mull over the information. Looking up, he saw Elfhelm and Hæfern striding up the square. With a snap of his still – gloved fingers over his head, he motioned the two to the town center. Lýðrest met Elfhelm’s eyes; still heated in fury, before she cast her own down in shame. Gamhelm squatted down on his heels, in order to look the two boys in the eye. He pointed at Ceoluulf. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen summers this summer.”

“Sir!”

“Sixteen summers, sir.”

He pointed at Immin. “You?” 

“I’ll be fifteen summers this summer… sir.”

“Hmm. Elfhelm? Do you have room in your command?”

“If you say I do.”

Gamhelm looked over his shoulder to his unusually surly Captain. “I say you do. These two will be joining your company when we leave. I suspect they will need to be trained as pages before they are fully cloaked. They will need to be trained from the ground up.”

“Yes sir.”

“Lýðrest? Half of their pay is to be sent home, to help tend to the needs of their family. If it is not enough, we will arrange more. The two of you will be fed, clothed, and housed, your weapons provided. You will have little need for much money. You should sleep well, knowing your family is being provided for.” He stood up and whispered to Elfhelm, who was now standing behind the marshal. “Make sure food and seed are provided to the family as well, including the herbs their mother needs. Hopefully, she won’t have to resort to prostitution again, however-“ Elfhelm curtly nodded his understanding. “Lýðrest, unload your husband’s horse and take his things to your rooms. We will stay through tomorrow and leave the day after. Elfhelm, come with me. We need to stable our horses.”

Somehow, Elfhelm knew that Gamhelm wanted to see him for more than just stabling horses.

~~~~***~~~ 

“You need to calm down before you deal with her.” The two Riders strode towards the barn, horses trailing behind.

“I have every intention of dealing with her,” he spat through gritted teeth.

Gamhelm stopped in the road, a deep glare in his visage. “I would suggest you go for a ride to work off the steam, but here, that would be dangerous.” Now Elfhelm was glaring at his Commander. “Although it would probably clear your nostrils of burning body stench.” The glare became more concentrated. By now, Gamhelm was exasperated. “Dammit, man! She was terrified for her father.”

“There were hundreds of Riders at the garrison, who would have been more than willing to come with her! She didn’t ask a single one. Not. A. Single. One!” He continued on into the barn. “I’m going to blister that behind!”

Gamhelm followed him in, good-naturedly nodding. “At times, that is true; however, I would give you advice from a man who has been married for many years and under similar circumstances. Women aren’t men. They don’t think like us. They react out of gut reaction, from their heart, their feelings. They have brains, but they use them differently.” He reached over and began to remove Elfhelm’s horse’s bridle. “She’s not a child, Elfhelm-”

“But she is WITH child! She tore off without thinking about our child!”

Gamhelm’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did she tell you that? Before we left for Edoras?”

“No. My mother said she is showing early signs.”

The bridle slipped off and Gamhelm hung in on the nearest peg. “Then there is a chance she doesn’t know.” The man signed heavily. “Assume she doesn’t know. I knew Aelwydd was pregnant with Gamling before she realized it!” Gamhelm raked his fingers angrily through his hair. “Early in their pregnancies, women are more sensitive. Aelwydd cried at every little thing when she was pregnant with Gamling and with Orva! Everything upset her. Even her breasts were sensitive! I tried to tell her loved her once and she started crying over putting my boots on the wrong side of the bed! She made the most wild-arse decisions I have seen!” His finger went up. “She decided one morning, the cottage had to be completely rearranged! I’m glad I forgot my spurs and had to come back!” He took a deep breath. “She laughed at everything when she was expecting Mayda!” For a moment, the man seemed to be lost in a beloved memory. “Look, I know you’d like to just paddle her senseless, but… rather than beat sense into her, you would be better served if you simply told her! She is your wife. You have to live with her until either you or her dies. Do you really want an angry beating to be between you always? Does she deserve it? Remember,” and with this, the man leaned in close, “she might be carrying your child. Be angry, that’s fine, yell at her, but put yourself in her shoes! Lessons can be taught with honey. You know that. I’ve never known you to harm a woman, much less any living creature. Why start now?” And with that, the man turned and left Elfhelm stewing in his fury.

~~~…~~~

Æðelberga and her brood were now fed and sitting comfortably in the corner with the two boys, who, after having the shite scared out of them, were now excited about this new adventure. They knew the work would be hard and they would be far from home, but they were secure in the knowledge that their mother and younger siblings would be taken care of with money they earned. Perhaps now their mother would not feel the need to entertain strange men in her bed. Lýðrest brewed a concoction for the little one, who was mostly hungry and run down. Her bowels were soft and it was decided she needed solid food and more of it. To herself, Lýðrest figured cleaner drinking water would be helpful and made a mental note to herself to see that new cookware was sent to the family. She saw from the corner of her eye when her husband came into the tavern and with a jerk of his head, followed him to their room upstairs. She bit her lip. Chances are, he was going to spank her arse and deep down, she was going to let him. Now that the worst was over, she was thinking clearly. She shouldn’t have run off with two half-wit brothers. Someone could have gone with her – even if it were Aelwydd and Hereswið. She trailed behind him up the stairs.

“Which one?”

“The same one.”

Together, they went through the door, Elfhelm dropping the bar behind him. With a jerk of her arm, he pulled her to the bed, sitting down before pulling her face down over his lap and throwing her skirts over her head.

Lýðrest was grateful her face was fully covered. At least he wouldn’t see her shame, her red cheeks – her facial ones at least – or eyes that were now tearing up. His hand gently caressed the plumpness of her backside.

“You know,” he whispered, “I really love this arse.” He planted a gentle kiss to the fleshiest part of the curve before smacking it smartly. It caused Lýðrest to jump – she was expecting it to be much harder than that. Again, his lips met where his hand had, his tongue trailing, cooling the slightly heated flesh. His fingers kneaded the plump curve, massaging, his tongue following. She attempted to move from his lap, turn over, but he held her down, his tongue chasing his fingers, delving into places she didn’t…

“ELFHELM!”

“Shhhh. I’m mad.” His tongue made a particularly perverted dip, causing her to gasp. Finally, after satisfying himself, he flipped her before moving to his knees on the floor, then spreading her, his tongue now delving into more a familiar heated cavern. His hands fumbled at his own lacings and as soon as he was uncovered, he reared up, impaling her. As his tongue made its way up her body, he lovingly nuzzled her breast through the lawn material. He heard her gasp with something akin to pleasure and pain… a reaction she hadn’t had. He kissed her hard. 

“Next time,” he panted, “you feel the need to run off on a wild goose chase, you will take a group of riders with you. Do you understand?” 

Lýðrest’s arms were around him, clinging to him. “Yes, Elfhelm. I promise.” 

“If you don’t, I will not go so easy on you next time.” He slung one of her legs over his elbow, causing him to sink deeper. With this, he pinned her wrists to the bed above her head, pressing them into the mattress. “In fact, I think I’ll assign a group to you while I’m gone, to make it easier.”

She tried to sit up, despite the fact her husband had her wrists pinned to the bed. “Fek that!”

“No,” he stopped momentarily, to look her in the eye, “I’m fekking you!” His smile fell. “Do you know what went through my mind when I came home and discovered you had run off?” She shook her head. “I realized that I love you - Ic ferhþlufu ðu. I love you, Lýðrest. I would die if something happened to you or our baby.” He took in her stupefied look. “You didn’t know? You’ve been tired, taking naps, feeling run down. Certain foods suddenly not to your liking. Your breasts are tender. When was your last cycle?” Lýðrest began ticking in her head. “Aye, you were due at the new moon and that was two weeks ago. So busy, you didn’t notice.” He rolled, so that she sat astride him. “Ride me. Ride me home, wógere.” His hands shifted to her derriere, aiding her in doing just that. 

When both were spent, she laid her head on his massive chest, feeing his arms around her. “Ic ferhþlufu ðu, Elfhelm. Really. I should have waited, but I was so scared for da. And then… and then… fek, this is just the shite pile!” 

Elfhelm chuckled. “I take it the criss-cross marks on his chest, you made?” She nodded. “Good girl. Next time, don’t be afraid to run him through, if I’m not there.”

“I would have. I’m glad he’s dead. Is that horrible?”

Elfhelm shook his head. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I notice his face-“

“I did that too. With a hot frying pan.” She inspected her palms, grimacing at the blisters. “I tried to protect them, but-”

Elfhelm sat up with a jerk, causing her to sit back on her knees, still straddling him. He looked closely, scrutinized her reddened hands. “Do you have a salve for this?”

“Aye. In my pack-”

Quickly, he set her off and fetched her medicine bag. It took a moment before finding the tin with the pre-made ointment. For a change, he doctored her, kissing her fingertips, before laying her down and making love to her again. This time in the aftermath, they curled up under his cloak, whispering until the other fell asleep.

_Ic ferhþlufu ðu…_

_TBC_


	17. 17F - Famous Last Words

**_Thank you Alex, for making my nocturnal wanderings make sense. Thank you Jade for the beautiful artwork. You went above and beyond. And a special thank you to those who read this piece of silliness._**

 

****

My Sweet Thing 

****

Epilogue 

****

Famous Last Words 

19 years later 

The call had come up from the guard tower, the four remaining children and Lýðrest, running to the gate. Running up the stairs, Lýðrest snatched the eyeglass from the guard and looked into the horizon before smiling. “It’s your father’s banner! He’s home! He’s home!” The group rushed back down the stairs. “You,” she told her eldest daughter, “go tell the cooks to start spreading out the feast!” She tapped her second son on the shoulder, “Open the barn doors; start bringing in the hay and sweet feed. The horses deserve a fine feast as well!” The boy, only thirteen summers, ran off, calling to his friends, to start pulling water from the wells, bringing in the feed…

Elfhelm was through the gates first. His face was lined, lined from the Mordor of all Wars and the horrid things he had seen, but there stood his wife… HIS WIFE… at the front, smiling and holding her arms out to him and crying. His wife was crying, dear Béma, something good must be raining from the sky! He pulled up next to her, sliding back and extending his hand, and pulled her in front of him in the saddle. He kissed her thoroughly, eliciting ‘ughs’ and ‘disgusting’ and ‘get a room, you fogeys’ from his children and other riders. Perched in front, he rode with her to the barn where the two of them dismounted and rubbed down Burgwígend, who was antsy and nipping.

“So few have returned.”

“We are lucky any of us returned. At least our first-born returned.” They looked across the gangway, watching as Æðelfrid quietly rubbed down and fed his stallion. “What he has seen cannot be unseen. He has been unusually quiet. I am hoping Annya will bring him from his doldrums. She is all he talks about.”

“He needs to wrap her in his cloak!” Lýðrest hissed. “Apparently, she stayed with him in his tent the night before the Riddermark emptied for Gondor and she is now One of the Blessed!” Elfhelm stared at her as if she had grown a second head. “She’s pregnant!” 

“Who’s pregnant?” Æðelfrid wandered over to his father’s stall. “Aren’t the two of you a bit old for that sort of thing?” 

Elfhelm grinned and grabbed his wife by the ass, pulling her close. “NEVER!” The young man stalked off, his bearing and walk so very much his father’s. They watched as he stormed out of the barn, his first cloak billowing behind him. “’Tis probably a good thing her father won’t be back in time to kill him. We can get them married and wrapped and in their own cottage before he returns.” 

“That’s unfair to Coenwalh, Elfhelm! He loves his daughter, he likes our son and he knows they love each other.”

“Aye, you’re right.” He hung his head, before whispering into the dirt. “Did you receive the bags of the Marks of the Fallen?”

With this, Lýðrest immediately softened, her rarely seen compassionate side coming forth. “Aye. Poor Théoden. But Éomer is a good man, a good Marshal and he will make a good king. The families know. Immin’s wife is taking it very hard. She lost their babe at the news.” Elfhelm almost fell to his knees with that pronouncement. “At least she has the other three. When is Ceoluulf coming home?”

“He was injured. It will be awhile, but if she is waiting for him, they can console each other.”

Lýðrest’s face was buried in her husband’s chest. “I prayed to Béma every night and every morning that you and ours would be returned home safe. Was it horrible?”

Elfhelm was quiet for a moment. “I never want to live through that again. What was most hideous was the number of Shield Maidens on the field when it was over, the number in the healing halls.”

“I would have gone, you know, if we didn’t have the little ones,” his wife spoke up fiercely. “I would have brought my frying pan! Heated it up, even.” She nodded once. 

This made Elfhelm laugh. “Aye you would! Would you like to hear something to make you laugh?” His war stallion fed and semi-placated for the moment, he slung his arm over his wife’s shoulders and proceeded down the alley of the barn, the bustling still continuing. 

“You flirt-gill! You have a joke and you’ve not told me?”

“It’s not a joke, but it’s funny! Do you remember the curse you placed on Gamling’s head right after we were married at your da’s place?” 

She blinked, thinking back. “What? That he would fall in love with a woman just like his mother? Elfhelm!” Over the years, Lýðrest’s opinion of the man had softened. She actually considered him friend and fed him happily the times he was in their home. “That man is a confirmed bachelor! No woman would have him!” 

“He’s fallen in love! With a woman just like his mother!” 

Lýðrest gasped. “What poor young thing does he have his eye on?” 

“Lufian of the Wold’s widow.”

Lýðrest stopped, her mind whirling, fingers snapping. “What? Short, wren-like woman… has a fast horse… what is her name… Ah… Ah…”

“Aefre.”

Lýðrest’s jaw dropped, the name and face finally coming to the forefront. “Aefre of the Wold!” She smiled. “Well, if anyone can give that man a run for his gold, that one can!” She settled her hands on her hips. “Please tell me she loves him back!”

“I think she does.”

The two strolled off arm in arm, before Elfhelm spoke. “I want to eat. I want to eat good Rohirrim food, with good Rohirrim ale – the shite in Gondor was wretched! And then I want to go to bed,” and with this, he nuzzled her ear, “with a good Rohirrim woman and feast and rut for two days.” 

His wife was laughing hard until he leaned over and whispered in her ear causing her to stop and scream at the top of her lungs.

**“YOU’RE WHAT??? YOU ARE MARSHAL OF THE FEKKING WHAT?????”**

 

_fini._

_Original Working title: The Sweetest Thing_  
Begun 10/02/12  
Finished 01/29/13 


End file.
